


Heartstrings

by WaterHorseyBlues



Category: B.A.P
Genre: (no on actually dies tho), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Character, Depression, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Fate, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Healing, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mental Health Issues, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attacks, Platonic Soulmates, Red String of Fate, References to Depression, Romance, Self-Discovery, Soulmates, Transgender, aromantic!daehyun, asexual!daehyun, autistic!yongguk, genderfluid!himchan, nonbinary!junhong, trans!jongup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 35,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterHorseyBlues/pseuds/WaterHorseyBlues
Summary: The Red String Of Fate isn't a fairytail, it's very real - but not necessarily romantic. For some people that link gets severed, either by choice or without them ever knowing why or how. Himchan sets up a support network for those who's fate-lines have been cut, hoping for them all to find comfort in each other, and maybe to somehow restore those broken lines.





	1. Fuschia

Sun shone through the large hall windows like it was still mid-afternoon despite being evening. The distant hum of insects and human activity wafted in with the summer breeze through the cracked windows, allowing what could have been a stuffy meeting a little fresh air. The poster pinned to the door by its corners seems to inflate and deflate with the breeze like a breathing chest, the big words shining across it's colourful surface catching the light:

SEVERED STRING SUPPORT GROUP – 6-8 PM TONIGHT

Himchan leaned back in a fold-out chair, a plastic cup of pink sugary cordial in his hands, and gazed out the window, watching vibrant leaves of trees and bushes rustle. His eyes closed slowly and he felt the warm sun shining through onto his face, slowly working the stresses away from his face. He can see only darkness, a hint of grey line where once there had been a pink string extended far out into the darkness. His fingertips unconsciously slid to touch his fingers on his left hand, tracing the empty skin where a pale band still had yet to fade.

“Himchan?”

He opened his eyes and turned to look to the door, eyes settling on the young man in a large hoodie nervously hovering in the doorway.

“People are arriving.”

He nodded and stood. “Sit down, Jongup, you've been scurrying around all day. No one's going to bother you.”

Jongup gave him a skeptical look but did as he was told, sitting in the chair furthest from the door and nearest to Himchan's. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and chewed his lip. “Do you... Do you think mine will be here?”

Himchan glanced back at the young man. He was silent for only a moment, before giving him a sympathetic smile. “This is the first step to finding them.”

Jongup nodded.

Himchan took a deep breath and stationed himself at the door to welcome the newcomers.

 

 

The turn-out was smaller than Himchan was hoping for, but he hadn't been expecting a lot. It was hardly common, and even less common for people to openly admit to it, but only four was not promising.

“Well, there's no dancing around the subject,” Himchan began once everyone was settled in their chairs with drinks and basic greetings had been done, “We all know why we're here. But our reasons will be very different.”

There was a heavy pause after this while everyone looked equally nervous at the thought of addressing their reason.

“I'll make it a bit easier for you and start,” Himchan said after a moment, feeling the tension relieve itself a bit once he had spoken. “There are, I think, two major reasons why any of us might be in our situation. The first reason is that, somehow in some way you do not know about, your fate line was severed and you lost your connection. This is usually because of untimely death of your fated, or because of the second reason.”

There was a solemn silence this time.

“The second reason is that, due to something happening in your life driving you to make that choice, you cut your connection yourself.”

No one made any eye contact.

Himchan swallowed and took a deep breath. “I set this group up because I...” He glanced and Jongup who gave him an encouraging nod, “Because I made that decision.”

Everyone was looking at him now with wide eyes.

“I was very young,” he explained, slow and delicate like telling a child about a family death, “I fell very deeply in love with someone. We weren't fated. Of course, I know that fated doesn't have to mean your 'One True Love', I'm not a child any more,” he laughed nervously and one or two of the people gave him small smiles, “But I really believed I didn't need anyone else. My fiancée was the love of my young naïve life, I couldn't imagine needing anyone else. It's stupid. I know. Very, very stupid.” He paused and looked down at his hand, clenching an unclenching his jaw. He could feel how intently everyone was watching him. “We made a promise. A very foolish promise. The day we engaged we decided to sever our lines as a sign that we needed no one but each other. So, I severed my line-” His voice caught and he closed his eyes. A second later he felt Jongup's hand squeeze his arm soothingly. He took a slow breath and opened his eyes again. “She didn't cut hers.”

Stunned silence.

“It was barely noticeable at first,” he continued, voice a little rough as his throat began to burn, “my fiancée would be distracted during conversation, be away from home a little longer than usual... We had rushed into our engagement and, as many rushed things do, time began it's toll on us. The spark died. And so fate happened.” He shifted in his seat. “Things took their natural turn for the worst. My fiancée left me and for the first time I was... Alone. I had no fate line to follow. Just pieces of my life to pick up.”

Jongup rubbed his arm gently.

“This was a while ago now, so I'm getting my life back together. I talked to a counsellor who suggested I try meet other people in a similar situation. It hadn't occurred to me that anyone else could be in this boat, and I was so tired of feeling alone. By chance I met Jonguppie in this city,” he smiled and reached out to give Jongup's shoulder a hearty pat, the younger man looking a bit disgruntled but evidently a little pleased with himself, “as you can tell we're desperately in love-”

“We're not,” Jongup interjected quickly.

“Heartless.” Himchan rolled his eyes, receiving a few laughs and smiles in response. “But I thought, you know, no one should have to face this alone. I researched into it; there's a scarily high suicide rate for people like us. That's not okay for us to just get brushed under the rug as a tragedy story. E deserve to be able to put our lives back together.

I know there's not many of you, and some of you won't relate to my story at all. I'm not proud of what I've done, and I've felt every consequence of it. But, if this can help any of you just a bit, it will have been worth it. I'm really thankful you chose to come today.”

There was a polite round of applause when he was done speaking, but he could feel the tension in the room with the mixed responses to his confession. What mattered is that he'd said it, and they knew how honest the environment could be.

“How about we go around the circle and people can tell their own stories. I don't just want it to be my shame, you know?” He laughed a bit and felt the nervousness in the room grow again. “Look, this is a no-judge zone. I just told you all I broke my connection for a teenage love story. The only benefit I got from this was not spending a penny on a wedding. You're safe here.”

“I'll go,” says a man across the circle, small face and fluffy hair. He'd introduced himself as Youngjae. “It's a bit like yours, I guess, so it makes sense I say it now.”

 


	2. Bumblebee

Boxes. Stacked high until the windows barely let in strips of golden light. A lazy fan ticking as it pushed around the same dusty air. Youngjae sat among his belongings – what was left of them after the great clear-out – and gazed down into his half empty glass. He was free now, to do anything.

The tremors of what he had done still rumbled through his blood, fingers shaking and sweat on his brow. He shook himself and unpacked, slowly, wiping everything down as he put it away. He started with the kitchen, then the bathroom, the bedroom, the cupboard then the living space. Cardboard folded into a pile in the middle, windows thrown open to air the space out.

It looked like a dolls house. Devoid of personality. Not for long though, he had to remind himself, he could start building again. Nothing of his old life to influence his brand new decisions. A fresh start. A new man.

He washed his face then crawled onto the wide windowsill in the living space, putting fresh brightly coloured cushions beneath him, and gazed out.

 

His mother called, making sure he was alive. They were so far away now. Everyone was. He didn't hear from his friends, but an old co-worker called and he ignored it until his phone stopped ringing. He'd find new people. People who didn't know him.

 

He hunted down a grocery store selling food he'd never eaten before and spent hours online looking at recipes from all around the planet and trying to make something that he'd never tasted before. Most of it burned or was horribly undercooked. The rest of it he wasn't sure if he'd done right because the taste was so strange.

 

He lounged in the living space with books of things he'd never cared about before, sweating in the dense heat, chugging glass after glass of water. His fan ticked at him.

 

He managed to find some seasonal work at a local business making a smaller wage than he was used to, but figured the change of expected income would encourage a change in his usual budgeting and lifestyle. Being too comfortable let him get lazy. Besides, it was nice to get to move around outside a bit on this job. He'd spent too many hours cooped up in an office box.

 

He sat on the windowsill, hands curled around a cup of sweet iced tea with the window wide open. A light breeze rustled his hair into his eyes. He blinked and swept it back with his fingers. He'd have to get a haircut. He couldn't let it stay the same as it had always been. Too comfortable. Too familiar. Too same-y.

He found himself outside a barbers gazing at images of men with various sharp, handsome haircuts. He scraped his hair back from his eyes to get a better look. It had been a while since he'd even been to a barber, having spent the past few years just trimming his own hair after one particularly heinous haircut several years ago. He swallowed the nervous energy building in his chest and throat. This wasn't the biggest change he could make, nor the most significant, yet...

He settled for an undercut, telling himself he wasn't being weak for going for something not too dramatic. Shaved hair was in. It was fresh. It had different energy. It was seasonally appropriate and sensible.

A gentle breeze tickled the back of his neck as he walked home, making Youngjae scratch the new and very bare shaved hair. Loose hairs stuck to his fingertips as he pulled them away. He trailed from shadow to shadow under the lowering sunlight, passing couples and groups of friends chatting on their way to drink the summer night away.

He reached his flat – stuffy despite the emptiness. The voices of people outside still drifted up to his window as he pushed it open. He dragged his mirror out and leaned it against the wall, looking at himself:

New hair, new clothes, in a big empty apartment with new furniture. New job. Nothing certain.

Alone.

“Don't cry,” he whispered to his reflection as his breath caught a bit, “don't cry, that's too predictable.”

He turned away from his reflection and went to get more water, chugging several glasses before taking a break to pant heavily. His eyes were distinctly watery and stinging now.

“Don't,” he groaned and rubbed his face hard, “Not now.”

He'd barely been in the flat more than a fortnight, not even reached his second rent payment. The tremors of his decision came ricketing back like a storm in his body, electrical and unrestrained. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was nothing ahead of him, just a huge grey expanse where once had been a warm golden ray.

He leaned over the sink and heaved, shaking and gasping as thunder beat the inside of his head and clouds formed around his vision.

The storm passed, leaving him in the dimly lit kitchen as warm night air stroked his skin.

He pulled himself away, wiping sweat and tears from his face.

 

He wasn't entirely sure why he was on the side of town he was when he saw the flier. He had some interesting new soaps in a box under his arm and a hair trimmer he was convinced he was going to make use of when he spotted it tacked up on the window of a local events office.

No one could have missed the garish design or the bold, alarming words: 'SEVERED STRING'.

Severed.

'Unchained', was what he'd been using, 'uncommitted', 'unrestrained'.

Severed.

Someone had been on the other end of that line. That severed string. That person who had no idea why the line had been cut.

He wondered if there was anyone else out there like him, who had made stupid impulsive decisions.

He took a photo of the flier and clenched his phone in his hand, staring down at the screen.

It was time to make a change that put him on the right track.

 


	3. Platinum

The spoon trembled in his fingers, creating unsteady circles in his coffee. Cold sweat beaded on Daehyun's head and neck, damping his palms and making his clothes cling to him as though tying to suffocate.

The silver glow had flickered.

He hadn't been certain until he shut his eyes again, and witnessed the line flutter in and out of sight.

He'd snapped his eyes open, breath already catching, but he couldn't escape the way his insides churned and anxiety gnawed at his bones. He took a slow breath and put his hands flat on the kitchen counter, willing himself to calm down, then closed his eyes once more.

The glow had dimmed significantly, a slowing pulse of light in darkness.

His gasped, throat closing, and opened his eyes again. His vision had gone blurry with tears.

He'd heard of his before. A close friend recalling her own grief. He sunken eyes, listless voice.

He couldn't sit through that as well. Couldn't watch that line go dark. Couldn't let that happen to him. Couldn't face being left alone in the world.

Couldn't.

 

It was an act of mercy, he had to remind himself.

 

He hoped his fated hadn't had to feel sad for long. He hoped they were unconscious before it happened.

He hoped their soul forgave him.

 

He grieved.

Bottles were forced out of his hands and he was held by family as he wailed. He slept at friends places, curled against their sides on couches or in beds. Once at home he crawled into his parent's bed like a child and slept fitfully. Someone bought him a large plush toy to hold at night, to chase away the haunting isolation.

He stopped drinking coffee.

 

He tried dating. Of course he knew soul-mates weren't inherently romantic, that was a children's story, but he'd always felt like his fated would be The One. That was why he never felt connection. That was why he'd never known romantic love. He had hoped his fated would appear and he'd feel that butterfly feeling of unconditional love. That burning desire to give his all to someone and receive all in return.

Dating didn't go well.

It wasn't as uncommon as he'd been led to believe. People died all the time, it made sense people would be left to never find their fated, or lose theirs during their life. But that hollowness that hung around a person could hover like the ghost. It put people off.

There of course were a few that went well. Laughing, playful chatter, fun dates and a promise to meet again. Usually people like him. They always had all the components needed for that spark to fly.

It never did.

 

He wondered if there was something wrong with him. His mother asked sometimes how his love-life was going and he barely had an answer for her, only an indeterminate hum as he kept cleaning the plates.

 

He was a natural flirt, or so he was told by friends when they hit parties. A real Casanova type. Single people were all over him. Sometimes they were too all over him, and he would have to excuse himself awkwardly as his friends rolled their eyes.

He wondered if he was broken.

 

Maybe, he thought as he gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he'd saved himself for his fated for so long that he didn't know how to be any other way?

He felt himself becoming quieter as the seasons changed. Around him the world burst into life and he shut the blinds inside himself. He sat for long periods of time beneath blossom trees, watching white petals fall and thinking hard about the way of the world. Everything was green and lush and he was a grey ghost of who he once was. Hollow and dark like the expanse behind his eyelids.

 

He wondered if there was a way of finding the grave of someone you never knew. He wondered if in that emptiness there might be an earth trail leading him to a place he could say a proper goodbye.

He vocalised this to a friend once, who pet his hair gently and let him curl close and bury his tears.

 

Summer baked the city streets, leaving mirages wobbling on the tar-mac. He wistfully remembered his childhood town by the sea and the cool, salty wind. He liked it here, but wished his parents had picked a breezier place to retire to. At least there was fancy snowcones here.

His was covered in a plethora of flavours, wanting to get as much out of the ice-treat as he could. He and his friends sat in a park, enjoying cool shade under a tree and the soft grass under their hands. For some time everything felt normal again.

It wasn't until they were getting ready to head home that he was passed a glossy flier, folded into quarters, and told to wait until he was alone to read it. And to think about it.

 

He stood silently in the kitchen over a cup of cold soda, flier in his hands. It was bright and cheerful, which seemed to contrast the topic it was about.

SEVERED STRING SUPPORT GROUP

Support. He had plenty of that. Family, friends, even the dates with people like himself had been supportive.

He didn't need it.

Did he?

He chewed his lip nervously and silently begged for a sign so he could make the decision.

A hand settled on his shoulder. He turned back to see his mother smiling kindly at him. She squeezed his shoulder. He nodded.

 


	4. Rouge

Chronic depression. Low dose of daily Prozac.

Panic disorder. Weekly therapy sessions combined with daily CBT.

Potential eating disorder.

Potential sleep disorder.

Likely a result of the above. Treated as above.

Water. Pill. Splash face. I _will_ get better and I am _good enough_. Force down any food. Big pot of coffee. Work.

 

Yongguk liked his therapist. An older woman with a kindly face who understood what he meant when he would occasionally go on a little ramble about something. She understood him in a way a lot of people didn't really, and he felt a little bit more like he belonged around her. She liked his tattoos and liked hearing about new ones. He wasn't entirely sure how much she was helping, but he appreciated her anyway.

She was good, even if she did say things like 'you're depressed because you lack direction', and 'finding true love is the best cure of all'. He brushed those off generally. He had plenty of direction, just no drive to go there. And as for love? He was having a hard enough time loving himself, let alone someone else. Except Tang Wei. He loved Tang Wei. He was fortunate his therapist thought this was sweet, because it had been exceptionally embarrassing to admit it.

 

He loved his dog. He needed his dog, yeah, but he loved the fuzzy poodle more than anything. He loved the comfort of soft curly fur under his fingers. He loved the squishy paw pads. He loved the soft ears. He loved the warm wet nose. He loved the security of the dog leash and the fact Tigger – named that way from another thing he loved – didn't mind him playing with the handle to release nervous energy. If he was especially stressed and nervous Tigger would step closer and put his paws on the toes of his shoes, making a comforting weight there to calm him.

 

He loved other things. Cute animals – especially if they were soft and friendly – and any plush doll variation of that he could touch. He loved ramen, packet or cup he didn't mind, it was all perfect. He loved old music and silent films which where so much easier to watch than the overwhelming, noisy and too-bright movies that were out in cinemas.

 

Love wasn't going to cure anything. He still lay listlessly on the couch some evenings with Tigger cuddled against him, gazing at the ceiling and running his fingers through the soft curly fur. He still found himself slipping into spirals of self-hatred and whole weeks of dissociative numbness.

What he loved just made it a bit more bearable.

 

'Direction'. He knew what she meant. Most people, if nothing else, had one path they absolutely could follow and find one universal certainty in their life. Not him.

 

 

 

He'd been doing pretty good on the day his whole world crashed down around him. The depression had always been there, just less of an issue, and of course Tigger was fresh and new out of Special Dog School or whatever it was service dogs did and was delighted to be with him. Getting work was complicated and confusing and he had no idea what people were on about half the time but he was doing okay, all things considered.

 

Then it happened.

 

He'd been on his way back from a walk with Tigger and stopped by a local store to grab one or two essentials. He was in line, a handful of items in hand when suddenly everything stopped. He felt it like someone had cut a taught string that ran through his body, the twang at his centre jerking his stomach.

He staggered.

Things went a bit hazy, cold and hot at the same time, sweat all over. Tigger was pressing on his feet but he seemed not to be attached to them anymore.

Someone said something to him.

Where was he?

What was everyone saying?

He trembled like a boiling pot on a stove, threatening to burst over, breath short and jerky, the world swinging in and out of focus.

He felt the ground slide beneath him, a hard pain in the side of his leg.

Hands. Several hands. Burning his skin.

Chest so tight he couldn't-

_Breathe_

He felt paws on his hands, soft, squishy, pressing comfort on him.

_Breathe_

Someone's voice.

He blinked.

Things slowly cleared.

Someone was talking to him.

_Breathe._

He took slow breaths to the sound of someone counting.

Everything came back into focus.

 

It was painfully awkward and difficult to leave the situation, but he managed to get home. Without the items. Tigger pressed against his leg the whole way back.

 

He settled down in his apartment and curled on the couch, pulling the poodle close. He buried his face against the soft ears. There was nothing in the darkness.

He'd been abandoned.

 

The panics became a regular thing. Sometimes he threw up. Sometimes he had nothing left to throw up. He didn't sleep a lot. His family and friends sometimes came by to check on him and he couldn't figure out how to make himself seem more presentable. He wasn't sure if he was even talking properly to them.

His brother saw him during a particularly bad panic attack once, after briefly mentioning his fated. Lots of arguing and stress later he eventually made it to a doctors appointment. Even longer after they gave him his diagnosis and prescriptions. It had been a longer and more arduous process to get him the right therapist.

 

 

 

He liked his therapist. She approved when he collected another thing with the cartoon Tigger on it and would let him fidget with things and didn't force him to hold eye contact or say what he was 'supposed' to be saying. She changed her pen when he mentioned her last one being too scratchy. She let him have his dog in the sessions.

He liked her even when she produced an uncomfortably brightly coloured flier, circled the time and date sternly, made him put reminders in his phone and ordered him to attend at least the first session. She was upfront about things, and he appreciated that.

 


	5. Cyan

Bright lights, a soft pale background, a stool high enough for him to perch on without his long legs getting in the way, the click of shutters as he turned his head to regard the camera. Another long day pretending to look relaxed and contemplative when his muscles were already starting to tire from holding himself in awkward positions perfectly still for several hours. Junhong loved his job, he really did, but it took its toll.

It was sweet relief when his break came. He gathered his bag and made his way out of the studio into the nearby shopping district, desperate for a decent meal. He didn't like to stick around much. He knew already that he wasn't doing as well as he used to. As long as he focussed on keeping his looks in check he was fine. For now.

There was a nice restaurant he liked to go to that did huge meals for cheap that didn't have much fatty food or anything he'd have to put effort into burning off later. And the food was good. As he ate in a quiet corner he glanced out the window at the large square in the shopping district.

He'd been right there when it happened, barely months ago.

 

 

The sun had been warm that day, a gentle breeze to ruffle his freshly dyed hair and catch in his silk jacket. Another successful shoot done, a quick food break and then the next shoot. He knew the drill well and had his timing down to a T. He was making his way across the square, eyeing the fast-food chain and thinking he deserved something a bit more hearty than usual, when the feeling began.

Like a tugging inside him.

He slowed, a slight nausea in him, and wondered if he'd caught something somehow.

It happened again and he stumbled a bit, palms moist and brow damp. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

The cool blue line shuddered in the darkness, then like an old TV being turned off it flashed and dimmed. Darkness.

He gasped, sickness about to take over him. He gripped a nearby bench and breathed heavily, shaking.

He'd only read about this happening. A woman in a magazine talked about her fated ending their own life and her finding out too late.

He stayed where he was, sweating and trying not to retch, until he turned and dragged himself back to the studio.

They took one look at him, dishevelled and pale, and sent him home.

 

He scrubbed himself clean until his skin hurt. He kept squeezing his eyes shut, seeing emptiness, then opening them and doing it again. Over and over. Like trying to restart a computer.

He tried to sleep, hoping it would be a bad dream, but the overwhelming darkness made him toss and turn and flinch. Without the soothing blue light he couldn't find peace.

 

He found people talking about it online, people who'd discovered names in newspaper obituaries that matched the time of their fate line going dark or people like him, lost and confused without their fate lines.

Nothing could be done.

He just had to move on.

 

He confided in one person at the studio, which meant that he'd essentially confided in everyone except they all pretended not to know while giving him pitying looks.

It was suggested he take a break, but he refused. He needed the distraction. He'd take any work he could find. He'd wear whatever, go wherever, be ready whenever. The lights, the colours, the discipline of it all would keep him moving forward.

 

He lasted about a month before he burned out, overworked and sick. He was ordered to take a week off and get his act together before his skin had a breakout or the lines on his face got any deeper. A few of his stylists kindly supplied him with products to help him out.

He spent long days soaking in floral-smelling baths and playing music loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

Sometimes he wondered if he should slide beneath the water and stay there.

He never did.

He returned to work tired and demotivated.

 

 

He needed to get out of this rut. He knew he was a mess, but he had no idea how to fix it. He finished his lunch, paid and left, wondering if he needed a change of scene. Maybe he should look into a new agency or ask to be moved somewhere else, or take up a hobby and make new friends. Maybe he just needed some new music to listen to.

It was hard to get back into the rhythm of things, to keep up the energy, to express all the emotion and power he needed to for his job when he felt like the ground beneath him had become glass and he was about to fall through at any moment. He needed to find his drive, his passion. He needed to feel like he had a reason to keep going along, when one of the most basic things in life had been taken from him.

He took a longer route back, figuring no one would get too angry if he was a few minutes late. Maybe if he got fired he'd find the drive to change his life around?

He wandered down a road he didn't usually take, but didn't mind too much. He needed a sign. Something to tell him what to do.

Something caught his eye.

A brightly coloured poster stuck to a window, vibrant in a way that matched the outfits he'd been wearing lately, among posters he'd normally not turn an eye to. He stepped closer and read the block letters, curious.

SEVERED STRING SUPPORT GROUP

A group. A group of people like him getting together. People from different backgrounds with different stories and reasons and motivations. Maybe he'd find an answer to his own situation there.

He took a photo of the poster and made a note to himself to attend, no matter what work schedule he had. They would understand, he figured, if it meant he could get himself back to where he used to be.

 


	6. Shamrock

Wearing a binder every day was exceedingly exhausting. Wriggling in and out of the tight fabric and making sure to cough every time he took it off so his lungs wouldn't struggle was enough of a hassle without the added financial burden of replacing it every time it stretched out or got damaged. He knew he was getting closer to getting his much needed surgery, but for now he had to deal with the hard work just to get through the day.

He was lucky, though. Very lucky. He had an apartment that he shared with a good hearted man who'd taken him in when he'd had to move far from home to get a good doctor. The local LGBT+ community seemed very tight-knit and caring, and he was thankful for his situation.

Jongup didn't verbalise it much, but he didn't know where he'd be without Himchan.

Hichan had dropped him at his usual meetings with his doctor, saying he'd be working late and Jongup would have to walk home. This wasn't much of an issue, he'd walked home plenty of times before.

He couldn't understand how that one walk had gone so wrong.

 

His meeting had gone well. It seemed like he was meeting all the right criteria and his progress was on-track. His doctor assured him he'd likely be getting his surgery very soon, they just had to secure a date.

He was in an exceptionally good mood.

Maybe that's why he hadn't noticed.

 

He'd been halfway home, earbuds in and texting Himchan about what had happened.

 

He only just heard the loud buzzing of a motorbike engine, roaring against his ears, before it was too late.

 

Pain beyond anything he could describe tore his ribs and side to shreds.

 

His earbuds were yanked out, followed by the distant sound of his phone smashing.

 

His head hit the ground hard, front teeth splitting his lip, jawbone scraping on tarmac.

 

Agonizing pain.

 

Darkness.

 

He had a brief awareness of flashing light, the inside of an ambulance, before blacking out again.

 

Monotonous beeping tones.

 

So much blood.

 

White ceiling.

 

Red covering gloved hands.

 

Voices.

 

The taste of iron.

 

Dark stains on pale sheets.

 

Slower beeps.

 

Someone shouting his name.

 

Flickering green.

 

So far...

 

So far away...

 

Bliss.

 

Silence.

 

All light.

 

Empty white expanse.

 

Nothing.

 

.

 

..

 

…

 

..

 

.

 

A jolt like punch through his chest.

 

Choking. Agony. Loud voices. Beeping. Bitter taste. Blurry movement. Jolt! Pain. Pain. Aching ribs. Pounding head. Such loud voices. Lights far too bright.

Steady beeping. Relieved voices. Ache. Groggy.

Darkness.

Emptiness.

Wrong.

Bile. Bitter mouth.

 

It hurt so much to throw up, but the doctors were elated when there was no blood.

 

He'd been declared medically dead for two minutes.

 

It seemed an eternity of being stabbed with needles, stitches replaced, bandages cleaned, being uncomfortably cleaned and wiped down by nurses, having his vitals checked and cognition checked, before Himchan was finally allowed to visit.

He sat on the chair next to him, clutching his hand and weeping.

Jongup didn't have the energy to talk, but just managed to weakly squeeze his hand back. He was so thankful for Himchan.

 

It was a long period of checks, slow tiny steps, having a thousand things fed into him through tubes and needles, and more uncomfortable changes with the nurses, before he was finally free to go home.

The nights of darkness that threatened to swallow him whole lead into nightmares of screeching wheels and green oozing out of him like blood.

He was prescribed a whole lot of sleeping medication to handle the insomnia he'd developed.

Himchan drove him back and held his arm the whole time. He didn't say anything.

 

The night he finally found the voice to tell Himchan, he wept against his shoulder and each retching breath felt like a kick to the ribs. Himchan soothed his hair and held him as gently as though he were made of glass. He had become a hollow shell of himself.

 

Physio sessions were endless. The damage was pretty bad. Muscles torn and twisted, bones cracked and broken, insides battered and bruised. He threw up a lot.

He wasn't allowed to wear his binder.

He stayed indoors in big hoodies and slipped down a rabbit hole of dysphoria.

 

He was thankful for Himchan, who helped him all the way through.

 

Physio was endless, but he was getting better. He could walk properly again, it didn't hurt too much to turn and move. He could dress himself with minimal pain. He was allowed to wear a binder again, but not too frequently. Things were on their way up.

He met his doctor, ready to know the date he'd be back in the hospital.

The grave expression said it all.

The damage was too bad to risk the surgery, it could leave him with life-long nerve damage and mobility issues. They'd only consider it if he healed well enough.

 

He was thankful for Himchan, who allowed him to cry without making him feel more pathetic than he did already.

 

Sometimes they talked about the darkness behind their eyelids.

Sometimes they acted like it wasn't a thing. That it had never been there.

 

Physio was endless, but he was getting much better. He could wear his binder often now, but had to take caution and pay close attention to any discomfort. Carrying heavy things was doable, but a bit painful. Sometimes when he coughed there were twinges, but he was doing okay.

His doctor was impressed, but nothing was certain.

He set himself to heal as best as he could, even if it took years to get there.

He was fateless, but not lost. He had his eyes on his own destiny.

He would have that surgery if he had to defy all odds to get it.

 

Himchan had ideas, and emotions. A lot of them. He cared a lot for things Jongup didn't want to think about.

It was a sweet idea, but it filled him with pain.

He reluctantly agreed to join in on the support meetings, if only to avoid being left home alone and might need help with something. He also couldn't help the curiosity that there were more like them.

He got in the car with a plate of wrapped snacks on his lap and a large bottle of cordial pinched between his feet, and wondered what he was getting himself into.

 


	7. Blue jay

Himchan was delighted to see the same group make a return the next week. Introduction week had been alarmingly... Depressing. Though on reflection, people did see to get some cathartic feedback from telling their own stories and hearing each other's. Even Jongup seemed into the idea of joining in every week – but he suspected that had something to do with Yongguk's service dog sitting diligently on the man's lap.

He arrived early with Jongup at his side and they set up the chairs, drinks and snacks. He'd also picked up a box of tissues and some stress-balls in case things got a bit overwhelming. He was still getting his head around what else he might need for the meetings when the others began to trickle in, greeting them politely and taking seats.

“So, how are we all feeling?” He asked, chipper in a way that felt a little fake, “You all came back so this must have been worth your time.”

“Well you going first definitely made it easier for me to talk,” Youngjae said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It's a no-judgement zone. I want that to be clear to everyone. It's a... Difficult decision to make, and irreversible. It's not uncommon to regret it. We all make mistakes in life. Making a mistake doesn't make a person bad by default.”

Everyone nodded at this. Youngjae seemed a little bit embarrassed, but somehow more relaxed than before.

“Um. Yeah. I guess I'm just glad no one got angry about it. Since everyone else didn't really have a say in their situation...” Youngjae shifted a bit in his seat and bit his nail.

Himchan smiled gently. “Well you all seem like good people to me. And if any of you do start taking issue I'd rather you handle it like adults and not like angry teenagers throwing fists in a school.”

There were a few small laughs at this. Everyone was starting to settle down.

 

“I think the more I think about everyone's experiences, the more I get confused about my own,” Junhong said. They'd fallen into comfortably chatter before everyone had started talking about their progress. “I only knew death to break the line... I've been going around wondering when I'll read a news article about something horrible. I know it could be anything but it really felt... Wrong. Really sudden. It had such a weird and lonely feeling...” He trailed off and swallowed.

Daehyun gave him a sympathetic expression and nodded. “I know what you mean. Like things felt strange before it even happened.”

Junhong nodded. “Right. It felt so... Desperate.” He shook his head. “I don't know how to say it. Sometimes I see graveyards and I think about walking through them and looking for recent ones. I know it sounds really stupid, but...”

Daehyun's brow furrowed in the uncomfortable silence. “It's not stupid. I've thought about it too. I did it, once. It's hard. You don't know how far away your fated might have been. I think... I think there's a lot to work with. All the emotions. You don't get to grieve properly. There's no name or face or memories, just the sudden knowledge they're gone.” He took a heavy, shaking breath. “It's easy to think you're going crazy or something but... There's no guide on how to handle it. You just have to. I think it's harder, that way, because you have to work it out by yourself.   
But that's what this is all about, right? You know, us coming here, we don't have to work it out alone. I guess we've come from different places, but our experiences are similar. We can we can get through these hard times since we understand each other.” He finished speaking and met a stunned silence as everyone took in his words.

Junhong sniffled, eyes glistening.

“Oh, crap, sorry, I didn't mean to ramble and talk over you,” Daehyun apologised hastily, “I just haven't had a chance to really say what I had been thinking, and-”

Junhong laughed a bit and waved his hand, tears starting to roll over. “It's not- it's not because of that I just-” He rubbed his face quickly, but the tears still came, “I haven't had anyone say that to me and-” He kept rubbing his face, “it was really good to hear-” his shoulders trembled.

Daehyun reached over and pulled the tall man into a tight hug, rubbing his back, as Junhong wept against his shoulder gently.

 

The rest of the meeting went well, a few more tears shed but laughter and good intentions all around. Soon it was coming to an end and everyone was sorting themselves out to go home.

Jongup watched Yongguk give Tigger's head a scratch, playing with the ears a little bit. “Your dog is really cute,” he said after a long internal battle.

Yongguk glanced up and smiled gently. “Yeah, he's a poodle.”

Jongup nodded. He'd felt some disappointment the first time he saw the yellow 'SERVICE DOG' jacket, knowing he couldn't play with the cute animal, but it was enough just to see it's adorable face. “How long have you had him?”

“A few years. He's grown a lot since I first got him.” Yongguk's eyes filled with pride as he gazed down at the dog.

“It's good you had him as a companion this whole time.” He half wished he hadn't said it, but the point of the group was to be open, right?

Yongguk kept his gaze down, a bit tense for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. He was really good for that. He knows when I'm sad and when I'm stressed so he'd looked after me really well.”

Jongup nodded. A bit like how Himchan had been for him, but less words and more adorable paws.

Yongguk looked at him a little nervously. “So um, you're transgender, right? So you're a guy...”

Jongup nodded. “AFAB.”

Yongguk looked confused.

“Uh. It means everyone thought I was a girl until I had to come out and tell everyone I'm a guy.”

“Oh, right.” Yongguk nodded. “I feel really bad knowing you were close to getting your surgeries, even though I'm not certain all the details about them. I hope that works out in the future. Um...Is it rude if I ask...?”

Jongup smiled a bit. The older man had a quiet, shy presence that he found somewhat endearing. “I get asked all the time, I'm used to it. It just means they'll cut my boobs off.”

Yongguk went pale.

Jongup laughed. “I'm joking. Sort of. It's not that dramatic. It just gives me a flat chest.”

Yongguk nodded again. “Okay. Uh, I'm sorry if I say anything wrong. I've been told I say strange things or express myself badly.”

“It's fine. At least when you ask you're making the effort to not say anything wrong.”

Yongguk smiled and nodded, fumbling with the dog leash.

“Are you bothering him about his dog?” Himchan's came up behind Jongup, looking a little amused.

“No, I know not to touch it,” Jongup huffed.

“I don't mind. Tigger is a hard working dog, he deserves recognition.”

Himchan smiled. “Okay, alright. Fair enough. Listen, I was thinking of getting drinks after this, everyone else has to go home but if either of you two are free...?” He bounced his eyebrows.

“I can't, I have to catch a live event for this game release tonight. Everyone's going to be there.”

Himchan sighed heavily. “Jonguppie, I love you but you're such a geek. How about you, Yongguk? You much of a drinker?”

Yongguk grinned a little. “I'm happy to get drinks. Otherwise I'm just going back to an empty apartment.”

“Great!” He gave Jongup a pat on the shoulder. “I'll call you a taxi, you'll have to take what's left here back to the apartment.”

Jongup nodded as Himchan quickly finished tidying up and went to make a phonecall.

“He seems to take good care of you,” Yongguk said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jongup nodded, smiling, “he does.”

 


	8. Peach

Seeing everyone show to the next meeting was an incredibly satisfying feeling for Himchan. Everyone seemed to have become more comfortable among each other, chatting as they took their seats. Yongguk sat beside Jongup and the delight on the younger man's face was visible as the dog sat, alert, at the older's feet. Youngjae settled near Himchan while Daehyun and Junhong had a quiet conversation between them.

“So you're all back, which is great,” Himchan started, wishing he had more of a script to work with. “How is everyone doing? How are we coping?”

“I think I'm doing okay,” Daehyun offered after a small pause, “Everything's a lot easier to manage. My friends say I seem happier, which I am. I wont be who I was before, it seems naïve to think that, but I'm better than where I was a few weeks ago.”

Himchan nodded and smiled. “That's good! All that matters is you're on the way up. Is everyone feeling like this is helping?”

There was a general nodding and agreeing from the room.

“Getting out the flat and socialising is good for me, at least,” Yongguk said, receiving a few small unsure laughs in response. “Meeting everyone, hearing their stories... It's good for me to learn why this sort of thing happens and how it's affected everyone. I feel less alone, in that sense.”

Himchan smiled again, a little wider. There was a general murmur of agreement from the others.

“Honestly I'm just glad to have met someone in a similar situation to me,” Youngjae said, glancing at Himchan, “I really didn't think I would meet anyone else who'd been in the same situation.”

Himchan nodded. “I guess I'm surprised too. It's not like our stories match up, but there's been similar after-effects of it. If anyone, you're probably the person I can really offer meaningful support to – I've had a long time of living with my decisions and knowing how to come to terms with it and build a life without something everyone else has, that I chose not to. I offer everyone my ear to listen and shoulder to lean on, but I think you and I will probably understand each other the best.”

Youngjae nodded and hummed, raising his thumb to his mouth to chew his nail. “I don't want to be judged here. I know you said that won't happen here but...” He hummed. “It worries me, when I come here. It's not something done lightly. If I could undo it, I would. In a heartbeat.” He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, then dropped it back down to bite on a fingernail.

The room was very quiet.

Himchan nodded. “It's tough. People don't take it well. I've had people judge me very harshly. I'm sure people haven't been kind to you for it. It's frightening. I want you to know you can talk about it here, openly, and nothing will leave this room. If it gets too overwhelming, I'm not forcing you to come, but I am here if you need me.”

Youngjae nodded, eyes a little shiny, and looked down. “I just hope everyone else knows I'm not a bad person. I didn't mean it to be harsh or cruel to someone. I don't know how it feels to be on the other end, but I can guess from the way you've all talked about it. It didn't even occur to me to consider it. It was a really complicated time in my life.”

Himchan nodded and reached out to pat his shoulder.

“Um. Can I ask exactly why you did?” Junhong asked quietly. “I mean, I know you told us some of it, but... I'm curious how people get to that point? I'm unsure about what happened to me, honestly. Sometimes I wonder if maybe it wasn't a death... I just want to know what makes you chose to do that?”

There was a tense pause while Youngjae soaked in what was being asked and mulled over his answer. “I can't explain it well. It sounds... Really stupid. But it would, right? I guess... The certainty of it. The set fate of something... It's supposed to be soothing to people, to know one thing will always be the same no matter what. But you can't change it. You can't control it. Two people are fated at their birth? But you never know for what purpose until you meet them? Why is that person more important than the other people in my life? Why can't I chose to never meet them? Why do I have to follow this path in front of me, instead of doing my own thing? Am I even capable of true free will?-” He took a breath and shook his head quickly. “You see? It freaks me out. It really scared me. Being so uncertain about a certainty... It's like not knowing what the back of your head looks like. I really messed my whole life up when I got scared about it. I really tried to rebuild myself...” He trailed off and sighed heavily. “I can see the way you're looking at me, you think it's stupid. I know it is. But it's who I am, and what I did. Maybe it's better I did make the choice to cut my string. No one deserves to be stuck with me.”

“Don't say that.” Himchan frowned. “Sometimes you hit hard times in your life.”

“He's right,” Junhong said, “When you put it all like that, it kind of makes sense. I don't get it, honestly, but... I can see how it built up. But saying no one deserves to be stuck with you is wrong. Murderers have fated people, that's worse than someone who has an existential crisis.”

Youngjae snorted and let out a small chuckle. “Okay. That's a good point.”

 

The weekly meeting ended with a generally good mood from everyone, with the only exception of possibly Junhong who seemed to be thinking things over very hard. Himchan would have consumed himself with worry for the young man had Yongguk not quietly asked if he wanted to go out for drinks again.

 


	9. Royal Stewart

The meetings were an overall success. Moods generally increased with each discussion and slowly people began to bond over their experiences. Himchan was delighted to see Jongup and Yongguk getting along, if only because it seemed to encourage the older man to open up much more comfortably around the others and the younger was actually making new friends.

It also meant that Yongguk stopped by the apartment now and then with his dog, asking awkwardly polite questions about Jongup's transition progress or just listening to Himchan talk about whatever was on his mind. It was mostly a relaxed affair, if not for the constant battle Himchan had with Yongguk's specific needs when it came to food – it seemed that the only food he trusted and had no sensory issues with was cup ramen. That and a handful of select dishes that had to be made in a certain way. Himchan was determined to make sure Yongguk could still eat a decent meal when he visited without struggling.

He also found himself frequently confiding in Youngjae, and the other trusting him with his fears and insecurities that he didn't reveal to the full group.

Of course Daehyun and Junhong had been bonding over their shared grief, and it seemed the friendship was helping them come to a better understanding of how to handle it all.

Overall, Himchan was in a very good mood about the meetings.

The mood was either very infectious, or Jongup was especially happy that day.

“I don't see you smile this much normally,” He said in what he hoped was – and probably wasn't – an offhanded manner.

Jongup grinned at him. “I have big news.”

He raised a brow. “Oh? Did you finally get a decent job?”

Jongup's smile faltered into a frown. “No.”

“I'm joking, Jonguppie, what's the news?”

Jongup hummed. “I'll wait for everyone else to arrive.”

He knew by 'everyone else' Jongup meant 'Yongguk and Tigger'. He bit back a sulk at not being the first, but allowed it. Yongguk had become slowly a part of their lives now, it made sense.

Soon everyone else filtered in and took their seats, chatting among them.

“So, how are we all feeling?” Himchan began as usual, ignoring the absolute radiance of delight from where Jongup was sat.

There was a general chorus of, “Good,” “Pretty well,” and similar.

Jongup looked like he was about to fall out of his chair with impatience.

“If you haven't already noticed,” Himchan said, amused, “Jongup has something he'd like to say to everyone. I have no idea what it is, so don't blame me if it's strange.”

Jongup scowled again but it didn't last as everyone turned to him with interest. He seemed to shy back for a second under the attention before eventually being overwhelmed with his desire to make his announcement. “My doctor referred me to a surgeon and I got the letter this morning,” he explained quickly, “I'm approved for my top surgery and I'll be having it soon!”

There was an immediate group 'wow' followed by clapping.

“That's really good,” Yongguk said and smiled.

“So soon? That's great!” Junhong grinned.

“That must mean your physio has helped loads – you'll probably be back in shape in no time!” Youngjae said, amazed.

“Yeah, once it's all healed maybe we should all go to the beach or something?” Daehyun suggested, “It's been really warm.”

“Don't get so hasty, Daehyun, I've seen Jongup's abs and a safety hazard. But really, Jonguppie, how could you keep this from me until now? I can't even stay mad, I'm so happy for you!” Himchan reached out and ruffled the young man's hair.

Jongup glowed with delight.

 

The meeting continued in a generally good mood. Towards the end Junhong found himself confident enough to voice a thought he'd been having.

“I know we've talked about this before,” he began, “but I think I need to know a bit more about the deciding to do it... I guess you already talked about it a lot but... There's lots of reasons, right?”

Himchan and Youngjae both took a moment to find a reply.

“Well... For me, I really believed I didn't need fate. I thought my fiancée was the only person I could ever need in life, and it was a way of proving to each other we didn't need anyone else. It was young foolishness really. I think many people don't even consider how integral a fate line is in their life, or how important a fated person could be,” Himchan explained.

“Mine was unusual, I think,” Youngjae said with a small hum, “but people might be under many kinds of pressure to do it. Maybe if you're in specific Secret Services jobs you might have to do it? Maybe people in a dangerous situation might decide to cut it to protect their fated? There's so many reasons it might happen, but it seems so uncommon I can't imagine what they'd be.”

Junhong nodded. “I'm wondering if... Maybe mine was a severed line and not a death. It's hard to tell. I can't be sure but the more time I spend here talking to all of you and the more I think about it... It's confusing. I'm losing track of what I believe.”

“It's okay not to know,” Himchan reassured him, “You don't have to have the answers when you have so little to work off. We'll do what we can to help you overcome this stage, okay?”

Junhong nodded and sighed a little.

 

They all went out for drinks to celebrate Jongup's good news. Youngjae didn't stay long, he had a lot to sort out the next morning, and Junhong decided to walk with him as they seemed to live in the same direction. Daehyun became a sloppy, rowdy drunk and Jongup was starting to get tired, so dragged the man into a taxi and took them both home. Himchan and Yongguk stayed for a few more drinks, then left and found themselves stumbling to Yongguk's apartment since it was closer.

Himchan couldn't be sure who moved first or when it began, but what started as leaning against each other speaking way to close to the other's face to murmur slurred jokes fell into hot messy kisses and hands on bare skin, falling onto bedsheets and melting into one another.

He woke in Yongguk's bed, the other man holding him close, and found that he rather enjoyed the situation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of part 1/3 which means i get to take a small break and work on other stuff  
> if you enjoy this and want me to get back to the regular updates soon consider buying me a coffee (https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK) or supporting me on patreon (https://www.patreon.com/oskawrites)


	10. Turquoise

Hospitals were objectively the worst place – or to Jongup they were at least. He'd spent too much time in the white walls wearing off-white gowns and stinking of disinfectant and sickness. The knowledge that he was here on his own terms, though, was enough to get him through the discomfort and disgust.

And Himchan, of course, who sat beside him and rubbed his back in soothing circles.

“Only a few hours from now and you'll be more yourself than we've ever known,” the older was saying cheerfully, “I can't wait to not have to worry about stretching your binder out in the wash, or maybe take you shopping for a better fitted suit. We really should take Daehyun up on his suggestion – some sun on your skin would be good for you.”

Jongup nodded. Of course he was excited, but his nerves were rendering him nonverbal. He took slow breaths and rubbed his arms, trying to get himself together.

“You'll be fine.”

He looked over to see Himchan smiling gently at him. “Yeah. I know.”

“I'm really proud of you, you know? You've come so far.” Himchan moved his hand up from Jongup's back to stroke his hair. “Ah, when I first met you, you didn't even have a proper binder. You're nearly all grown up now.”

“I'm not your kid,” Jongup snorted and brushed his hand away.

“Nah. You're like my little brother.”

He tried not to get too choked up. “Shut up.”

Himchan laughed regardless. “No matter how cold you can be to me, you'll always be my family.”

He looked away and swallowed, blinking quickly.

They sat quietly for a while, Himchan returning to rubbing circles into Jongup's back. A clock ticked loudly in the waiting room.

“Himchan...” Jongup began, voice a little dry and awkward.

“Hm?”

“Would you ever get any surgeries?”

Himchan glanced at him and smiled, then hummed as he gave it some thought. “Well... It could pose a problem. If I got implants anywhere they'd only be helpful when I was feeling female at the time, but right now when I'm feeling male they'd be a nuisance.”

“But you have your masculine body even when you feel female...”

Himchan nodded. “True, but I'm good at working with it. Besides, no one questions these thighs when I'm in a skirt.” He grinned.

Jongup couldn't help the laugh. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Why do you ask?”

He hummed and fumbled with the fabric of his gown. “Just curious. I wish I was as comfortable in my body as you are.”

Himchan frowned. “Hey. It took a long time to be who I am now. I still have a way to go. I'm not as open about it as I'd like to be.”

“Does Yongguk know?”

Himchan chewed his tongue for a few seconds. “No.”

He nodded. “He won't have issue with it. You know that.”

Himchan smiled at him, a little sad. “I don't know anything for certain – but I do know we're making progress.”

He knew he couldn't press for more from the older, and nodded. “What do you think is going to happen with Junhong?”

Himchan hummed thoughtfully, thinking back to the last time they had seen the younger man.

 

“So, how did you know you're a guy?” Junhong asked in the voice of someone who wasn't sure if they were allowed to ask.

“Same as anyone else, I just knew. It was more about convincing everyone else.” Jongup replied, taking a handful of snacks from the table as well as a cup of juice.

“But... How did you know? Like... I'm sorry. I sound really stupid. I guess I don't get it. No, I mean I get it. You were assigned – that's the word, right? - female but you identify male. I get that. I think I'm just lost on the... Knowing the different feeling of it? This sounds stupid. I can't word it.”

Jongup hummed as he took a mouthful. “Think about it like this. How do you know you're a guy?” He asked this expecting Junhong to say the usual 'I just know!' or 'Because I am one!'

Instead, Junhong seemed very thoughtful for a second. “I don't think I do know.”

Jongup caught sight of Himchan glancing over at them. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... I do modelling, and a lot of what I do is andro stuff. Guys clothes, girls clothes... Unisex clothes... I don't think about being a guy. I don't really know what you're supposed to feel. I guess it doesn't...” He waved his hands vaguely. “Apply to me? Or mean anything to me? Is that weird?”

Jongup looked at him quietly, then caught Himchan's eye again. “Junhong. You know you don't have to be a guy or a girl, right?”

The look on the younger's face implied that he in fact did not know this.

“Those aren't the only options.”

Already wide eyes widened even more.

“You can not be either, if that's how you feel.”

Junhong looked like his brain was being completely unplugged and rewired.

“Are you okay?”

The younger blinked a few times then nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn't know that.”

Jongup squinted at him a little.

“I'm- I have a lot to think about these days,” Junhong said, looking a little lost.

“You don't have any rush to think about it. It's just...A thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Don't overwhelm yourself...”

“I'm not! I just...I guess I'm learning a lot since I started coming here. I'll... I'll think about it. Tonight.” Junhong took a deep breath. “Next time I see you, you'll be post-op, right? That's great. I hope you heal fast.”

Jongup nodded and smiled. “I'll keep everyone updated.”

 

Himchan squeezed Jongup's hand. “Worry about yourself for now, okay?”

Jongup nodded.

Himchan gave him a reassuring smile just as a nurse came to them.

“Moon Jongup?”

“Yeah, that's me.”

“Come this way.”

Jongup looked at Himchan who squeezed his hand once more then feed him to pat his back. “Go on. I'll see you after.”

“You don't have to hang around...”

“I want to. I want to be the first to see you.”

Jongup swallowed and nodded. “I'll see you after.”

Himchan rubbed his back and patted it once more before Jongup followed the nurse away to the operating room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to update part 2 - again updates every other day!  
> If you want to support me so there won't be a huge break between 2 and 3, please consider supporting me by buying e a coffee https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK or becoming a patron and supporting my original work https://www.patreon.com/oskawrites


	11. Hydrangea

His head felt filled with clouds. His body could have been made from anything from pillows to clay. He blinked blearily and grunted as doctors and nurses talked, muffled and far too fast to comprehend, around him. A nurse helped him to sit up and he groaned, world too wobbly to comprehend. His head tilted down-

His breath caught.

 

He was patting his chest down, admiring himself when Himchan and Daehyun arrived. He was too doped up to greet them properly, and instead gave them a huge smile.

“Wow, look at you!” Daehyun grinned and pulled out chairs for him and Himchan to sit.

“You're stoned,” Himchan snorted and settled down.

Jongup could only laugh.

“I've never seen you without a binder, is it a big change?” Daehyun asked, shifting to sit a bit closer.

Jongup nodded as Himchan answered for him, “Definitely noticeable. You'll see when he's wearing normal clothes. His shoulders are a better shape when they're not under the fabric.”

Jongup had stopped paying attention properly, looking at the two men. “Where is Tigger?”

The other two paused a moment before Daehyun burst out laughing.

“You mean where's Yongguk?” Himchan rolled his eyes. “He can't bring Tigger in, because of hygiene reasons, so he's going to visit us at home with Youngjae and Junhong.”

Jongup pouted.

“Hey, aren't we good enough company?” Daehyun huffed, “I even got you a card and everything.” He reached into his inner jacket and produced an envelope.

Jongup blinked as he took it. With a bit of effort – hands still weak and dis-coordinated from the strong pain meds. Eventually he pulled out the card and put all his effort into focusing on it.

It was a Get Well Soon card with a picture of a dancing dog on it. Inside was a collection of coupons for men's wear - “Because you'll need clothes that fit you better now, right?” - and a bubbly message reading:

_Jonguppie!_

_I'm so happy for you – you really deserve this!_

_I hope you heal quickly and are able to live a happier, more authentic life._

_We'll definitely all go to the beach, I promise!_

_Well Wishes,_

_Daehyun._

He couldn't help smiling more, certain his face would hurt if he could feel it. “This is really nice. Thank you.”

“I'm sure everyone else has got you cards too,” Daehyun said, a little embarrassed.

“I feel like I'm letting you down now,” Himchan laughed.

“Why, didn't you get me anything?”

“I did. But it's all at home. I didn't think bringing food and wash products would be allowed at the hospital.”

He snorted.

 

“Stop touching it,” Himchan scolded, pulling Jongup's hand from his newly flattened chest for the third time since they'd got home.

Jongup couldn't hold back the grin. “I can't help it.”

Himchan rolled his eyes. “Go wash up, everyone will be arriving soon.”

Jongup nodded and made his way to the bathroom, struggling not to fondle his own chest too much.

He found the large hamper of creams to apply to his stitches and all the products to wash before he re-applied dressing. He reached back to untie the dressing and hissed loudly as a huge shoot of pain went down his ribs.

“You okay?” Himchan called.

“Yeah. I think. I'm just... Sore.”

“Want help?”

He flinched at the thought of Himchan seeing him bare chested, when a tingling joyful realisation came over him. “Yeah, actually.”

The older came in and carefully helped him remove the bandages, then helped wash his back and stitches before leaving him to wash himself off. What would have been uncomfortable and dysphoric as hell for him now filled him with a strange sense of pride, to have his new chest out in the open. He was a little disappointed to apply the clean bandage dressing, but the stitches looked very red and were definitely aching and sore. He fought the urge to scratch them as he called Himchan again to help him apply the dressing, towel hung around his hips in a way that felt so right.

With a bit more help he was quickly dressed and forced to sit still and rest while Himchan finished preparing for the others to come by.

 

Everyone gathered in the flat, on the couch or on the floor, picking at the food Himchan had made and chatting. The table was laden with cards ranging from 'Congratulations' to 'Get Well Soon' and one 'It's A Boy!' that Junhong had bought as a joke. A large box of chocolates gifted by Youngjae had been opened and shared around.

Once they had worked out how long it would take for the stitches to come out and the scar to heal enough, Daehyun was intently planning everything they could do. Jongup wasn't entirely certain his limited upper-body mobility would allow for swimming in the sea, hiking or clubbing but they sounded fun, and he was up for chilling on the beach or out in a field somewhere. Yongguk was quietly listening to it all, fingers curling through Tigger's fur slowly.

At some point Youngjae and Daehyun got very over-excited and babbled loudly about some local games arcade, and Yongguk flinched a bit at the sound. Himchan reached a hand out and gently touched Yongguk's arm with a small smile, checking he was okay. Jongup met Junhong's eyes across the room and they both raised their eyebrows, then looked away, amused. Junhong quietly commented that the older men should keep it down in case neighbours came and shouted at them.

The evening went on and soon Jongup was losing focus. His body ached and an unrelenting lethargy had overcome him. He'd long since lost track of the conversation when Himchan tapped him gently.

“You okay?”

He blinked a few times and the world came back into an uneasy focus. Himchan was looking at him with a worried brow. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry. I'm tired.”

Himchan smiled and nodded, then cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Okay everyone, it's late and our Uppie needs a lot of rest. Time for you all to clear out and go home.”

Youngjae sighed and cleaned up some of the mess he made. “Shall we walk home together?” He asked Junhong, who blinked and nodded quickly in response.

“Sure, okay.”

Yongguk helped tidy as well, his fingers brushing against Himchan's as the other man went to take some things off him. “Oh-”

“It's fine,” Himchan smiled. “Um, just so you know I'm not sure if I'll be free as often after meetings. Just while Jonguppie needs to heal and everything.”

Yongguk nodded. “So... No drinks and... After.”

“Well... On days when I don't need to drive him anywhere or if he goes to bed early... I should be fine.”

Yonggk nodded eagerly. “Sure. Just let me know.”

“Oh, I will.”

Daehyun was looking distinctly uncomfortable as he shifted away from the conversation. “Hey, it was good seeing you, you look really great.” He told Jongup.

“Thanks. I wish I felt better to appreciate it more.”

“You'll heal soon. Especially with Himchan looking after you.”

Jongup smiled and soon the others were all bidding him goodbye, giving him well wishes and telling him to get a lost of rest.

Junhong paused on his way out and glanced back, shifted his weight on his feet and said. “I'mgona give it some thought, okay?”

Jongup and Himchan smiled and nodded.

“Can you think and walk?” Youngjae asked from the hallway.

“Yeah. Sorry, I'm coming.”

When everyone was finally gone, Jongup shuffled out of his clothes (with help from Himchan) and snuggled in his pillow-pile bed, letting exhaustion take him into the familiar bleak darkness.

 


	12. Sand

It was cheerful coincidence that caught Daehyun and Youngjae in the same homeware store on the same day. Daehyun because the family dog had chewed up the shoe rack, and Youngjae because he'd figured unpacking was going to continue to be an issue if he didn't have any shelves to unpack onto. They had wandered around the store together, Daehyun wondering if he should go for something cheap in case the dog did it again or something sturdy and expensive so it could last another attack, and Youngjae grimacing at the price on literally every unit he came across. In the end Daehyun picked out one that was raised from the ground but cheap in case his 'hard-to-reach' tactic was thwarted, and Youngjae left with nothing.

They made their way through the shopping district, chatting mildly like old friends. Daehyun liked Youngjae. He was cheerful, fun and playful like himself, but he was also quick-witted and a bit snide which was sometimes a whiplash experience when he was unexpectedly insulted midway through a joke, but it kept him on his toes. They had a lot of good energy between them and he was quickly deciding that Youngjae was a Good Friend To Have. He hoped the younger felt the same.

They soon decided on lunch and settled themselves in a bright, friendly looking sandwich bar that served portions neither of them were sure one human could manage. Daehyun had managed a good chunk of his when he noticed that Youngjae had only had a bite or two, and was staring at his soft drink with a small frown.

“You okay?”

Youngjae blinked and glanced up. “Hm?”

“I asked if you're okay. You were really spaced out – that's not like you at all. That's more Jongup or Yongguk. So what's up? What's bothering you?”

The younger couldn't help be impressed by Daehyun's attentiveness to detail, but he guessed it had to be obvious when he usually was the chatty loud one in a room. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Is it because you didn't buy any shelves?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “That's part of it.”

“Is it because you couldn't buy shelves?”

Youngjae didn't reply immediately, taking a small bite of his food with a frown. Daehyun waited patiently until he swallowed. “That's closer to the mark, yeah.”

“So is it a space issue? Does none of it fit the apartment?” Daehyun asked, knowing that wasn't the issue.

“No. I don't really have any furniture or anything to go anywhere so there's a lot of space at home.”

“So it's... Money?”

Youngjae took another bite, hoping to avoid answering. To his dismay Daehyun had suddenly developed a keen sense of patience and waited for him to finish expectantly. “Yeah.”

“You don't have to get shelves right now. You can wait until your next paycheck to get one, now you know what the prices are like,” Daehyun suggested, pushing his half-finished sandwich aside to focus on this new step in their friendship (which he had dubbed: The Confiding Step).

Youngjae hummed and turned his plate around a bit, as though considering attacking the sandwich from a different angle. “It's not really like that.”

“How do you mean?”

He clicked his tongue a few times, trying to find a way to explain. “It doesn't really matter if I wait a month or even four months. It's always the same situation.”

“But... Aren't you building any kind of savings?”

Youngjae shoved a sizeable bite of sandwich in his mouth, giving Daehyun a clear answer.

“Why not? You just moved in, you're going to need anything you can get. What are you spending it on.”

Youngjae mumbled something.

“Huh?”

“Rent, Daehyun! Bills. Groceries. It all goes on that. All of my income. I don't have any left over unless I cut back on basics. I had to take a loan to pay last month and I'm probably going to have to do it again if I want to furnish my flat at all. Keeping on top of money right now isn't... It's not going... It's not ideal.” He finished flatly, barely managing to hold his pride together.

Daehyun's brow furrowed. “Seriously? Didn't you think to go for somewhere you can afford? Or search for a job you could make the necessary income with?”

“I didn't think!” Youngjae huffed. “I just- I did everything so fast! You can't imagine what it was like. Everything just got too much for me and it all just came crashing down and I just- I just went and bought a new place and binned half of everything I owned and moved out in like one week. I didn't have time to be picky or do things sensibly! If I was thinking things through I'd never have a need to go to these dumb meetings in the first place!”

Daehyun flinched at the outburst.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to- The meetings aren't dumb. I'm just- I don't want to be in this situation.” Youngjae sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. His hand slid down and be bit at his nails.

“Hey, it's okay. You're stressed.” He gave him an encouraging smile. “You're not too late to do anything. You can still look for somewhere cheaper to live, or a better job.”

Youngjae hummed. “I guess. It's just... Piling up a lot lately. It's hard to think clearly.”

“Listen, it'll definitely work out! If you need anything you can ask me any time, and I'm pretty sure it's the same for the others. We've all got each other's backs now, right?”

Youngjae couldn't help smiling, nodding a bit. “Yeah. Thanks Dae. I feel a lot better.”

Daehyun glowed at the nickname. “No problem Jae!”

 


	13. Angelfish

“You look stressed,” Junhong told a very tired Youngjae on their walk to the meet up one evening.

“Thanks. Good to know it's showing,” he grumbled.

“What's wrong? Something I can help with?”

He looked up at the tall man with a gaze he hoped wasn't too exasperated. “Thanks, but I don't think you can do much.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He groaned. “We're about to go and talk about our feelings and problems for like an hour. Do I have to do more of that?”

“If you want anything to be done... Yeah, I guess. Sorry for asking.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “No. Sorry for being a dick. I'm just tired.”

“I can tell.”

“Thanks.”

“So tell me what's wrong.”

He glared at him through his fingers then dropped his hands. “Work.”

“Wearing you down?”

“Not paying enough.”

“Ah.” Junhong nodded. “You on a job hunt?”

“Yeah. Kinda. I just don't know what to go for. I've been in offices and staff jobs my whole life. What else is there?”

“Well...” Junhong hummed thoughtfully. “I just do what I enjoy. What do you enjoy?”

He blinked. “Video games.”

“You could be a youtube gamer?”

“I'm not stupid, Junhong,” he gave the taller a sharp look.

“Okay, okay! Well, what else then?”

He hummed. “I haven't had time for hobbies or anything since I moved.”

“What about before?”

Youngjae swallowed.

“Come on. You can't toss everything away. You can at least keep a few things you liked. What did you do in your spare time other than games?”

“Um. Photography. Amateur, obviously. But I had this really nice camera.”

“Photography?” Junhong asked slowly, an interesting expression on his face. “What did you take photos of?”

“Anything. Animals. Places...”

“People?”

Youngjae nodded. “Yeah. Candids mostly.”

“Were they good?”

He puffed up. “Yes, of course they were.”

Junhong grinned. “I'll see what I can do.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing yet. Just get a portfolio together and we'll see.”

Youngjae squinted suspiciously, but didn't press it further.

 

Jongup struggled to stay focussed on what people were saying. His body ached and his stitches were sore and itched. He'd struggled to get dressed and was still under a lot of pain medication, and he felt constantly exhausted. Himchan had asked if he wanted to stay home, but he'd insisted on going out, too sick of sitting around and doing nothing. Besides, he liked being around everyone. Even if he was barely able to keep up with what they were on about.

Junhong was saying something about his recent thoughts about his experiences, something about going online and reading severed string confessions to see if he could put together what happened to him, but Jongup just couldn't follow it. Daehyun had chimed in to suggest something when Himchan reached over and gently touched Jongup's arm, getting his attention.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

Jongup nodded. “Sorry.”

“You can sit out of this one if you want to.”

“No... I still want to be here.”

He glanced over and became uncomfortably aware that everyone was watching them.

“Not feeling so good?” Daehyun asked.

“I'm fine. Sorry. You can keep talking. My meds are just making me...” he waved his hands a bit.

Yongguk nodded understandingly. “It will get easier to manage.”

“Maybe you should stay home next time.” Himchan frowned and smoothed Jongup's hair.

“No, really. I'm fine. I'll be fine. Don't worry.”

“Hey, if you're back in the room for the minute how about you let us know how you've been keeping up?” Youngjae asked. “You know, like, with your whole situation?”

“The surgery?”

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “You know that's not what I meant.”

Jongup took a deep breath, trying to clear his head enough to form a decent enough response. “I just... Don't know. I don't know what to think about it. I don't know what to do about it. My fated is out there and they probably think I'm dead.”

“Did you ever look?”

He frowned a bit. “I- I did. At first. But... There's so many and... Not everyone talks about it. Or wants to talk about it. I guess I hoped coming here I'd find them...” he srugged. “Can I go back to being spaced out now?”

Himchan smiled and squeezed his arm gently. “There's still hope. Maybe more groups like this one exist.”

He hummed and nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You'll definitely find them!” Daehyun gave him a thumbs up.

He smiled a little and nodded, already starting to lose focus again.

 

Everyone made their way out as Himchan cleared up. He'd made Jongup sit in a corner, refusing to let him carry anything, and was just about managing to fit everything in one bag that he could carry to the car.

“Himchan.”

He looked over, surprised to find that Yongguk hadn't left yet and was stood a few feet from him. “Oh, were you waiting to talk to me? Sorry I didn't see you.” he laughed and set the plastic cups down. “Were you hoping to go out for drinks tonight? I still have to look after Jonggupie...”

“Ah, no, it's not that,” Yongguk smiled a little. “I was wondering if you're free this weekend.”

“In the evening? Maybe, it depends...”

“Actually, I was thinking the afternoon. It doesn't have to be for very long.”

Himchan blinked. “Um. Yeah, probably. Why?”

“Well, I...” Yongguk seemed to become nervous, Tigger moving to press down on his foot.

Himchan watched him patiently, confused.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Himchan opened his mouth wordlessly, taken aback.

“You can say no if you don't want to. I'll understand. I just thought, since we get on well...”

“Yongguk, I would love to goon a date with you!”

“Oh!” He beamed with relief. “That's great. Um, this Saturday? For lunch? Whatever time works for you.”

Himchan could barely contain his smile, cheeks dusted pink. “Sure. I'll text you when I get back and we can sort out a time and a place. How's that?”  
“I'm fine with that.” Yongguk grinned. “I'll, uh, talk to you later.”

“Get home safe.”

Yongguk nodded and waved, then left with his grin still on his face.

“That was cute,” Jongup said sleepily from his chair.

 


	14. Nautical

Daehyun realised one morning that he might be the only person in the group who would never be able to find his fated. Of course, nothing was guaranteed for the others, none of them had any clue what had happened to their fated and half of them not even sure why it happened at all. But, there was hope for them.

Not for him, though.

He was guaranteed a lonely future.

He heard the tiny clicks of claws on wood and smiled as Ganji trotted into the room, tongue hanging out and tail raised. Okay, so he wouldn't be totally alone. He always had his dog. And his family. And his friends. Except they all had their fated ones as well.

Did dogs have fated dogs?

He looked down at Ganji, who sat and stared up at him with the unconditional love of a dog.

He guiltily hoped they didn't. It wouldn't be fair if Ganji met the best border collie on the planet that made him a happier dog and changed his dog life forever and they went trotting around with their happy dog strings glowing.

He caught himself midway through a foul mood, glaring furiously at his confused and distressed looking puppy.

“Ah, Ganji...” He picked the dog up and held him close. “I'm not mad at you.”

He closed his eyes as the puppy buried its face against his neck and he let out a slow hum. A moment later it occurred to him that if dogs were out having soul mates it would be all over social media. It was hardly a secret affair when people's lines connected and they glowed like the morning sun.

He sighed and slowly settled down against the wall, holding the dog close. He was too used to these bouts of melancholy by now, though since attending the meetings they had become much less frequent. He wondered if this might become an issue for him.

 

 

A similar melancholy had come over Junhong as he looked out over the city from his apartment. Grief and mourning were things he'd prepared himself for. The possibility of abandonment was not.

Okay, he knew it wasn't abandonment, but he didn't feel much better for it.

The thought of someone cutting him off left a sour taste in his mouth. They'd never met him! They didn't know if they did or didn't like him!

He knew it wasn't worth stewing in his thoughts and quickly resolved to talk to the two people who he knew would help him work through it.

 

“I'm glad you're choosing to talk about it, that's a good sign that you're coping well,” Himchan said down the phone in his sensible voice. “You might be able to talk to Yongguk about it, as he's been coping with that.”

“I uh, actually thought I shouldn't bother him about it,” Junhong admitted sheepishly, “He seems like, you know, he doesn't need anyone else's problems on top of his own, you know?”

“I'm sure you're not a burden to him.”

“No I mean... He's just got a lot going on. And also I was a little worried he might, um, make me feel worse. Is that mean?”

Himchan laughed a little. “Really? Hm, I guess I know what you mean. He doesn't hold back on dark thoughts. You can talk to me any time, of course, I'm just sorry we don't have more people who might be able to give you more insight.”

“It's fine. Honestly... I wanted to talk to you anyway. To ask you something.”

“Anything!”

“When you... Cut your line... Did you think your fated... wasn't important?”

Himchan was quiet for a moment and Junhong could barely breathe.

“Junhongie. I want you to know that I was very young and stupid and in young stupid love that came with no common sense at all. It's not that my fated wasn't important, it was that I didn't know a world outside my fiancée.”

“And... Now?”

“Now I know that my fated is the most amazing, unique, wonderful and important person to ever exist and I was an idiot and a monster to ever disregard that.”

“You're not a monster,” he said quietly.

“Thank you. But I feel like one when I think about it.”

“I'm sorry...”

“No,” Himchan said with a sigh. “No, I should always be the sorry one. If I am ever lucky enough to find them I'll have to do a lot to make it up to them. No doubt they'll be very upset. Rightfully. But my fated is very important.” He paused. “And so are you, Junhong. Remember that.”

His throat burned a bit. “Thanks.”

“Was that too much?”

“No... No, that's- I needed to hear that. Thanks.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Well I'm glad I could help.”

“I'm going to call Youngjae as well. I think... I think he says stuff sometimes that puts my head in the right place.”

“That's a good idea. I hope you're feeling better by the next meeting.”

“Me too.”

 

“Junhong,” Youngjae's clear, stern voice says down the phone, “Don't you ever suggest to me that you're worthless ever again or I will fight you with my bare hands.”

“I don't- I don't know if you would be able to...”

“No. I would. You wouldn't see my fists coming to knock sense into you. Listen. You are valued and loved not only all of us but by a log of other people including your fated. Don't you ever think you're not important. If you ever think that even for a second I will know and I will kick your ass.”

“How is that supposed to raise my self esteem?”

“Aversion therapy. It works.”

“So I just have to be more afraid of your fists than afraid of having no human worth?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. It was so ridiculous, but in a way it probably was as ridiculous as he must have sounded when he must have called him. “Okay. I'll remember that.”

“Good. We love you, you giant baby.”

“Are you complementing me or bullying me?”

“I bully to show my love.”

“I feel bad for your fated.”

“Hey! If I ever meet my fated they will be blessed to have the full force of my eternal unconditional bullying adoration.”

“I'm sure,” he said with a laugh. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. I'm always here to shout sense into you.”

“Can't wait to go deaf.”

“I'll learn sign.”

“Can't wait to go blind.”

“I'll learn the one where you write on hands.”

“Can't wait to-”

“Learn some sense? Me either!”

He laughed despite himself. “Okay. Okay. Thanks again. I'll see you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, idiot.”

 


	15. Festive

“How are you feeling?” Yongguk asks, voice a little tinny through the loudspeaker.

“Like I got hit by a car,” Jongup replies. Himchan had propped him up and tucked him in bed, leaving him food and drink in arms reach and his laptop plugged in so it wouldn't die.

“That bad, huh?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Okay, not as bad as when I actually got hit.”

Yongguk laughed. “Well that's good at least. Do you feel like you're getting better?”

He hummed and tangled his fingers in the laptop charging cable to stop himself from touching his chest. It wasn't going to heal if he kept poking at the stitches. “Maybe? Everything either hurts or is numb. I can't move most of the time. Doctor said I should avoid any strenuous activity for a few months which... Kinda sucks. I can't even move that much.”

“Ah, yeah. I can imagine. How are you holding up, uh, emotionally?”

He knew what Yongguk meant. It was the first time he'd opened up since the first meeting. “The same, I guess. I mean, better since I had surgery and don't feel kinda sad all the time, but...” He hummed. “I guess I'm so used to the thought of it now, it's just always going to be... Kinda hanging over me? I dunno.” He sighed.

“There's always a chance. They could have been looking for you all this time.”

He felt a jolt of guilt as he imagined someone wandering graveyards as Junhong and Daehyun had been doing, looking for dates and names. “Maybe. I don't want to think too hard about it.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He couldn't help smiling. Yongguk was always so sincere. “It's fine. I have more immediate problems anyway. Hey, could you send Tigger over to be my service dog for a few days?”

“Ah, I'm sorry, he can't work for other people...”

He felt bad. Yongguk sounded genuinely apologetic. “I know, I was just messing around. But I wish I had a service dog of my own to help out for a bit.”

“What about Himchan? Isn't he with you?”

He grinned. “Don't you know? He's out trying to pick the perfect outfit for your date. He's already gone through his entire wardrobe and decided it's not good enough.”

“Oh... Oh no, should I be buying some new clothes?”

“I don't know, you tell me. Do you have a nice outfit?”

“I- I guess. I was just going to wear a shirt and trousers. Does it matter that much?”

“If I were you I really wouldn't let it worry you. But, advice, definitely tell him he looks amazing and complement his outfit. That's probably what he's after.”

“I- I was probably going to do that anyway. He always looks really good, and wears nice clothes, an smells nice...”

He scrunched his nose. “I really don't want to hear you being gross.”

“Sorry.”

He heard the sound of the key in the door and Himchan coming in with a loud, “I'm home!”

“Speak of the devil.”

“Huh?”

“I gotta go. Himchan's home and he'll want my opinion. Thanks for calling.”

“Okay, look after yourself.”

“You too.” Just as he hung up, Himchan stumbled into his room with two full bags.

“I couldn't pick so I've got a few things and I'll return anything I don't wear.” He dropped the bags onto the bed and brushed his hair from his face. “I swear it's so hard to find anything I want these days that I can actually afford.”

Jongup swallowed down the guilt. He knew he was a drain on Himchan's income, even if the older actively told him not to think that way. It was hard for him to hold down work when a lot of people took issue with him for just existing.

“Okay, help me out. Which of these say 'on a cute first date but also looking for a good night after?” He held up three fairly similar shirts, all in various pastel shades.

“Am I allowed to call the police if this gets too graphic?” Jongup asked dryly.

Himchan pouted. “Just help me!”

He sighed. “Blue doesn't exactly scream barely restrained lust.”

“You're right.” The older dumped the blue top, now left with teal and pink.

“Teal is... Basically blue.”

“It's actually-”

“It doesn't work. Go for the pink.”

Himchan nodded and dumped the teal. “Okay but now this makes everything else hard. I bought all the trousers with teal in mind.”

Jongup wondered why he'd even been asked.

“Okay, which pair?” Himchan hooked the shirt on the back of Jongup's door, then held several identical pairs of black trousers up.

“Um. What's the difference?”

“One's skinny fit and one's slim fit and one is also slim fit but with a higher waist.”

He stared at him.

“Come on, I need to know.”

“I... Guess....Higher waist means... Your legs look longer.”

Himchan pointed at him. “Genius!” He promptly tossed the other pairs into the bag. “Okay, jacket.”

Jongup dropped his head back against the pillows, praying for a swift death.

 


	16. Flesh

Himchan stared miserably at the mirror, tense.

“You look good,” Jongup said gently from the bed. “What's wrong?”

“I just- It feels too... Masculine.”

Jongup looked up. “Ah... You're feeling femme right now?”

Himchan nodded, pulling at the shirt to make it hang a bit looser. “I think so. Ugh, this is such bad timing, I loved this outfit the other day.”

Jongup gave him a sympathetic look. “You can wear something else... You still have an hour until you need to leave.”

Himchan swallowed. “I- He doesn't know.”

“You... Didn't tell him?”

“I never had reason to!” He said, flustered and picking at his hair. “I've been on a really long masc run that I forgot it might be weird to him!”

“He'll be fine with it. He's open to things and he talked to me a lot. He's not a bad person.”

“I know that! I know. I just- We're not the same... People take a longer time getting used to me. I've never dated someone who wasn't in the community and didn't know lots of people like us. What if he's uncomfortable? I didn't think it would be an issue so soon...”

“Himchan... It's not an issue if you just tell him.”

He frowned and fumbled with his buttons. “I'll tell him at the date. Maybe after it. At the end. Maybe I'll call him when I'm back here.”

Jongup sighed. “Maybe you should call him now?”

“No,” he said quickly, “No, I won't bother him. He might not show up, hah.” His joke fell flat on his nervous tone.

“I think you're overreacting, but do whatever makes you comfortable.”

He nodded.

“You're not comfortable at all are you?”

“No, but I'll be fine.”

 

Himchan was not fine. He arrived a little late, having poked at his outfit too much. His trousers were too thick and didn't hug his leg the way he'd like it to, and his shirt made him feel strangely square. He tried to shake it off as best he could when he saw Yongguk waiting outside the restaurant, Tigger on his feet.

“Hey! Sorry, I didn't mean to be late. I lost track of time while getting ready.” He laughed awkwardly.

Yongguk gave him a small smile. “Ah. You're here. That's good.”

“Sorry, I should have text you. I was rushing to get here and didn't have time.”

He nodded. “That's okay.”

He felt the twist of guilt in his chest. “Let's go in.”

They found a table and made a little light conversation as they looked at the menu. Himchan tried hard to compensate for the slightly displaced feeling by laughing a little too much. Yongguk could tell something was up, and his pauses between responses became longer and longer until they were both sat in uncomfortable silence.

They ordered their food from a waitress and without the menu in his hand to busy himself with, Himchan found himself looking around at everywhere except Yongguk.

“Um,” Yongguk began.

Himchan tensed a bit.

“Are you angry at me?”

He looked at him quickly. “What? No, of course not.”

“Oh.” Yongguk looked down. “Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologise.”

“Right.” A pause. “Sorry.”

The minutes passed like paint drying. Their food arrived after what felt like an eternity in awkward silence, only a brief relief from the tension.

“Looks good,” Himchan observed with a forced bright tone.

“Yep.”

It was not a comfortable silence in which they ate. Yongguk only ate pieces of his, leaving anything he didn't like the taste or texture of to the side of the plate. Himchan didn't want to come off like he was over-eating in comparison, and with the way his stomach was twisting with discomfort he only managed about half of it. They were soon both done with all they could eat, poking their food around their plates.

“Do you not want to be on this date?” Yongguk asked suddenly.

“What? No, of course I want to! I wouldn't have agreed to it if I didn't.”

“Okay.” The older nodded a little.

He felt the twist of guilt twinge harder.

“Then... Do you not want to be at this place?”

“This place is fine, really.”

“Okay.”

There was another painfully long silence.

“I'm going to use the bathroom,” Himchan said quickly.

Yongguk just nodded in response.

He rushed off to the toilet, thankful it was a gender neutral single cubicle. He fussed with his clothes, trying to make them fit in a way that didn't make him feel like he was wearing someone else's. He splashed his face a few times and picked at his hair.

By the time he'd come back the plates were gone and Yongguk was tucking something in his pocket.

“Should we ask for a bill?” He said awkwardly as he sat, feeling only the slightest bit better.

“I already paid.”

He blinked. “What? I would have paid at least half.”

Yongguk shrugged. “You weren't here. So. I paid.”

“Um. Thank you, but you didn't have to.”

Yongguk shrugged again, not looking at him.

They sat in painful silence for a few minutes before Yongguk stood. “We should go.”

Himchan blinked and nodded, standing as well. He was achingly aware that the date had barely lasted an hour. “So, we should do this again some time.”

Yongguk hummed non-committally.

He felt his heart drop. “W-well... I'll see you at the next meeting right.”

Yongguk didn't respond and looked at his phone. “I need to go home.”

“Okay.”

Yongguk left without another word. Himchan watched him leave, waiting until he was out of sight, then pulled his phone out to call Jongup. He made his way home quickly, teary-eyed and sick to his stomach.

 


	17. Lemonade

Himchan was not one for active wishful thinking, though that day as he watched the others file in for the meet up he did wish two things: first that Jongup hadn't looked so deathly ill when he'd checked on him that afternoon, and second that Yongguk had walked in through the door for the meeting instead of being painfully absent.

“Well, we're significantly smaller than usual,” Himchan began, tense and a little bit frustrated. He'd hoped to use today to talk to Yongguk and straighten things out. “But this means everyone has a little more time to talk about things. Is there anything anyone wants to bring up or thinks they've made any development in?”

There was an awkward silence, much like the one from their first meeting. He bit back a frustrated sound, they had made far too much progress to fall back like this.

“Well. I guess I'll start just to get the ball rolling,” he offered, “I think the more I've spent time getting to know you all and watch your progression, the more I've learned about my own progression and I'm learning more about myself than I could have. Like how I need to be more open about things, much sooner.”

There was an expectant pause when he finished talking.

“Like?” Youngjae pressed.

He tried not to bristle at this. “You know. Expectations. Intentions. Letting people know what's actually on my mind or bothering me instead of forcing things to be a way they're not. If I'm going to radically accept and be open about one aspect of my life I have to be prepared to do that for other parts too.”

Everyone took a moment to process this, Junhong especially frowning and chewing his lip.

“Anyone else?”

“Well,” Daehyun said after a pause, and Himchan was infinite thankful for the seemingly endlessly chatty man, “I've been getting myself down about something a lot. And it's going to sound really stupid.”

“You can say anything here, we're not going to judge you.”

He nodded. “I said it before how... I really thought my fated would be my one true love. I spent my whole life believing it and now I think I... I really think I did something to myself because of that. Like, my brain is always on pause waiting for someone who will never appear. I feel weird... Like I just won't ever feel any romantic feelings for someone. Like I was only ever gonna have one chance and it's gone.”

There was a long quiet pause after Daehyun finished.

“You know... Not everyone does experience things like romantic attraction or romantic feelings,” Himchan said slowly.

Daehyun nodded. “Yeah, I know, some people just never meet the right person.”

“No... Some people just don't experience it. It's a sexual orientation. Or, lack of, I suppose.”

Daehyun looked a little awkward. “I- I've been on dates and things. It's not that I've never fond people attractive.”

Himchan opened his mouth, but stopped himself and decided maybe now wasn't the time to start a crash course on the diverse spectrum of human sexuality. “Well, if you feel it's to do with how you've been waiting for your fated to be your true love, maybe you need to work on getting through your grieving stage and taking a step to your moving on stage.”

“So I should start going on dates again?”

“No,” Himchan said quickly, “not unless you think you need to or you're ready to. If you really think your fated was to be your true love, then maybe you need to look into how people have moved on after their romantic partners have passed. How they view themselves in their life as a single person and what they learn about themselves and how to go on from there.”

Daehyun nodded slowly. “Maybe... I'm not sure if it will apply as much, since I never met my fated, but... Thanks. It's something to try.”

Himchan gave him a small encouraging smile.

 

“You seem really distressed,” Youngjae said quietly, watching Himchan fuss as he tried to get everything together.

“I'm fine! Everything's fine!”

“Clearly not,” he said dryly. “I guess Jongup isn't doing well, and you and Yongguk didn't have a good date.”

Himchan frowned and didn't reply.

“Nail on the head then. You should talk about that. Openness and all.”

He sighed and set his pile down. “Jongup's really sick, he's not healing well. I don't know why. It's hard to keep up with work and caring for him. If I work less to look after him we'll struggle to pay rent and bills and food, but if I work more to care for him he'll not have the company he needs.” Himchan rubbed his face. “We need an extra roommate really. There's a spare room I could rent out but... The effort of finding someone...”

Youngjae perked up immediately. “You need a roommate? You'd split the rent, right?”

“Yeah, obviously. I mean, I could pay all rent if they just covered bills or groceries.”

“Um, I'm not going bother you if you don't want me to, but I actually really need to move out of my apartment. If you're okay, I could move in.”

Himchan looked at him quickly. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “I can't handle all my rent on my own with groceries and bills. I was going to try to find a much smaller place outside of town but...”

Himchan fixed him with a firm, thoughtful look. “I can't be sure, but... I might just take you up on that.”

Youngjae grinned.

 


	18. Watermelon

Daehyun dropped by with a Get Well Soon hamper for Jongup and his laptop so they could play computer games together. Jongup was thankful for the new company. Himchan was great, but he'd been high strung for days on end. It was nice to have someone over who wasn't making a huge deal of everything all the time.

“I'm gonna die if you don't heal me!”

Daehyun only made a big deal of things that didn't matter.

“Stop taking aggro then,” he said, voice still weak with exhaustion. He squinted at the tiny map on the screen, trying to work out where Daehyun's character was.

“I died.” Daehyun sighed heavily. “Resurrect me?”

“I don't have any spells,” he huffed.

“I thought you did?”

“No, I just resurrected in the real world.”

Daehyun looked at him like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh.

“Don't make that face.” He glared at his screen. “I didn't really resurrect. I didn't even go cold.”

“That's good, though. It would really suck if you died.”

“Thanks for the emotional support.”

“I'm serious.” Daehyun crossed his arms, a little huffy. “You're my friend. It would really suck if I never got the chance to meet you.”

Jongup gave him a tired, half-smile. “The game is restarting. You'll be auto-res'd. Get back to the game, idiot.”

Daehyun grinned to himself, but his lips were strained around the edge.

“Okay. What's bothering you?”

“Nothing. It's just weird stuff.”

“Is it about me dying?”

He didn't reply.

“There wasn't an tunnel or gates or anything. Everything was dark and then it was light again.”

“Okay.”

“And then God turned up and gave me sick abs and a golden katana and blessed me with Boruto.”

Daehyun snorted. “Whatever.”

“It's true. Ask God.”

“Next time I see God I'll be sure to.” He rolled his eyes.

“What happened at the last meeting? Did I miss much?” Jongup asked, changing the topic as quickly as he could.

“Himchan said some weird stuff. Yongguk wasn't there. Do you know what happened on their date?”

Jongup shook his head. “He wouldn't give me details, but he wasn't feeling great before hand.”

“He seems tense. I thought he was going to tell us something but...” He shrugged.

“Yeah. He's not so great when it comes to stuff about himself, even though he loves helping others...”

“You think he uses helping others as a way to ignore helping himself?”

Jongup looked at Daehyun and blinked. “That... Might be true actually.”

“I used to be like that before- You know. Before I had to actually start thinking about helping myself.”

Jongup nodded.”I guess it helps.”

“Not himself though.”

He hummed. “Anything else happen?”

“Well...” Daehyun rubbed at a fingerprint on his laptop screen. “He said something to me about sexual orientations. About not being attracted to people or something.”

“Yeah, asexual.” Jongup nodded and chose a new character for the next game, not wanting to stay as the healer. “I've met a few in the local community, turns out there's a big online network for people to talk and learn about it.”

“Er. Right.” Daehyun nodded. “I said I hadn't ever experienced anything with anyone, you know because of my fated, and he said maybe that I was... That.”

Jongup nodded. “It would make sense.”

Daehyun stared at him, then spluttered. “But I've been on dates! I know when people are hot!”

Jongup shrugged. “Yeah but straight girls know when women are hot. Gay people date the opposite gender before they even realise they're gay. Sexuality is, you know, personal and complicated.”

“But- I- He can't just say I'm-”

“If you're not then you're not. Only you know.”

Daehyun fell silent and frowned at his laptop.

“If it bothers you that much then maybe it means something. Maybe it doesn't. Think about it some time.”

Daehyun didn't respond.

“Get in the game, idiot.”

Daehyun blinked and quickly chose his character, the game starting once again.

 

Himchan came home after a long day of work to find Daehyun in his apartment. He wasn't shocked, but he'd hoped for a different man when he heard two voices speaking.

“Hello, I guess you ate everything already,” He said as he checked on the two of them. “Well,you at least look a bit better, Uppie.”

Daehyun grinned. “I actually brought food, so yours has been untouched.”

“Is that a comment about my cooking?”

“I'm trying to be considerate! What's the right thing to do?” He huffed.

Himchan smiled a little. “Thanks for keeping him company.”

“I'm still here,” Jongup said.

“Yep, and still in bed. At least open a window and get some air.” Himchan tutted and shook his head and made his way to the bathroom to wash.

As he did, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, brow furrowed. Youngjae's name glowed across the screen. He answered the call, holding the phone to his ear uncertainly. “Hey, what's up? You don't usually call.”

“Yeah, I'm sort of in a situation,” Youngjae said down the phone, voice a little creaky like he'd been crying. “Are you still on the flatmate thing?”

“Yeah, I guess. It would definitely help. I was going to talk to you when I next saw you. Why?”

“My bills just went up, and my hours got cut. If you're still okay with it, I need to move out pretty much ASAP.”

 


	19. Battenburg

Moving Youngjae in turned out to be fairly easy, given he had next to nothing and the things he did have weren't all necessary. Himchan ended up getting rid of his basic necessities, given they already had enough crockery and basic living supplies that people gathered when they lived anywhere. The spare room was quickly kitted out with Youngjae's belongings, his meagre supply of food distributed into cupboards.

“How come you don't have any cold foods?” Daehyun asked as he helped, leaning up to push pots of instant ramen onto shelves.

“I turned my fridge and freezer off,” Youngjae replied with what he hoped was a casual shrug.

“Why would you do that?” Himchan gave him a small, baffled frown as he wiped a few glasses he'd decided to keep.

“Kept down the power bills.”

Daehyun and Himchan glanced at each other.

“Jeez, I didn't realise it was that bad,” Daehyun said quietly.

“Yeah, well, I didn't want to talk about it.”

Himchan could understand. He tried to avoid bringing up money issues, though he was sure Jongup noticed when the food was much cheaper or that all the lamps were battery powered. Even in the winter he would pull out blankets and extra jackets before the heating would go on.

“Well, with you here now it should be all fine,” he said, tone light and hopeful. “And when you're not working you can take care of Uppie. I might be able to go back to full time.”

“I don't need taking care of,” Jongup grumbled from the next room over. He'd managed to drag himself from bed, looking weak and sickly, to attempt to help and had been put in charge of folding and stacking the cardboard boxes.

“Say that when your stitches have been taken out,” Himchan called back.

Youngjae snorted. “Well he's up, which is a good sign.”

Himchan's lips pressed into a tight line, but he nodded. Youngjae watched him curiously, then glanced out to where Jongup was barely managing to crumple a large box, wincing hard every time he raised his arms too high. The pasty skin-tone and light sheen of sweat was, admittedly, not the most reassuring thing.

“I guess it was a complicated surgery,” he murmured.

Himchan nodded again. “There's a lot of damaged skin, and his muscle never really healed properly. It looks like it's going to be a slow recovery.” He kept his voice low.

“I'll keep an eye on him, you don't have to worry.”

Himchan smiled. “Thank you. That's very reassuring.”

“And I'll come around a lot and help,” Daehyun chimed in.

“Less reassuring.”

 

“I'm surprised Yongguk isn't here too, given how close you two are,” Youngjae said in a we're-talking-about-this tone as he and Himchan folded bedsheets. Daehyun had been put on box duty and Jongup moved to sorting paperwork at the table, checking the details for selling on the apartment.

Himchan gave him a sharp look. “You're not surprised.”

Youngjae watched him fold a pillowcase perfectly. “I'm surprised you haven't fixed it yet. Yongguk doesn't strike me as a type to hold grudges nor intentionally slight anyone.”

Himchan lay the pillowcase on folded sheets and flattened the pile down until there couldn't possibly be any air left. “It's more complicated than that,” he said stiffly.

“Is it? If it were more complicated I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have been making heart eyes at him the whole time.”

Himchan frowned and picked the pile up, storing it in the cupboard. “It's just a thing I need to deal with.”

“Is it to do with all the makeup in the bathroom?”

Himchan froze. He was so focussed on getting Youngjae moved in he hadn't thought to clear his own stuff out of the way.

“You know I don't mind or care what you do or what makes you happy. I figure since you're practically raising Jongup then you're not... What's the word.” He waved a hand. “I mean that you're somewhere in the transgender spectrum. At least I assumed that.”

Himchan didn't reply instantly, picking at the sheets. “I was sort of hoping to come out on my own terms.”

Youngjae shrugged and flattened some sheets down. “It's not an issue. It doesn't really change who you are to me, I just understand you a little better now. If I'm living here with you it would suck if you felt like you had to hide part of yourself.” He looked up and caught Himchan swallow, blinking rapidly. “I'm pretty sure Yongguk would feel the same way.”

“Yeah, well,” Himchan replied, voice a bit rough, “I think I've ruined any chance of that.” He cleared his throat and walked back to the bed, taking the last pile to put them away.

“You should call him.”

Himchan stuffed the sheets in the cupboard, barely suppressing a scowl. “That's a bad idea.”

“I don't have bad ideas.”

Himchan raised his eyebrows at him.

“Okay, I had one very very very bad idea, but otherwise I don't have bad ideas.”

“I appreciate the sentiment but I don't need any advice.”

“You sure?” Youngjae raised his eyebrows. “Seems to me you spend so much time trying to fix everyone else's problems just so you don't have to fix your own.”

Himchan scowled and Youngjae shrugged. “I'm going to help Jongup with the paperwork, he's probably going to be lost on some of it.” He smiled and left.

Now alone, Himchan sighed and rubbed his face. He slid his phone from his pocket and opened his contacts, scrolling to Yongguk's name and hovering his finger over.

Just as he was about to call, a number he didn't recognise appeared on his screen, ringing. He blinked and held the phone to his ear as he answered, a little baffled.

“Hello, this is the community hall head office.”

“Oh, what can I do for you? Is this about my weekly meetings?”

“Yes it is. Unfortunately due to low funding we're going to have to cancel your time slot. Your group meets will no longer be taking place effective immediately.”

 


	20. Macaw

Youngjae was settled in almost immediately, and so it wasn't long until Junhong came knocking at the door with a 'moving house' hamper and yet more 'get well soon' gifts for Jongup. The bedside was becoming alarmingly overloaded. Himchan was thankful Youngjae had brought with him a huge box of canned soda to share out.

“You've got a full house,” Daehyun said cheerfully from the couch, one arm slung over Jongup's shoulders and the other being smacked away by Youngjae. “Ah, well, almost.”

Himchan tried not to respond to the sting those words gave him. “I hope you're not over all the time, I can barely feed you let alone everyone else.”

Daehyun pouted as Youngjae laughed and smacked his shoulder.

“Actually, it's good you did all come over,” he said delicately, setting his drink down on the nearest surface. “Well, that most of you did.”

“Is this about why you cancelled this week's meeting?” Junhong asked. He'd been surprised to receive the group text, and despite everyone's questions none of them had received a clear answer.

“If it's because of me...” Jungup began quietly.

Himchan waved a hand quickly. “It's about the cancellation, but it's not because of you, Uppie. It's actually a bit of a bigger issue than I let on.”

Everyone's eyes focused on him, silent and expectant.

“The community hall is funded from a limited government input, otherwise it's just donations and people renting the rooms out. I managed to get the meetings to be free because I paid a small deposit and the meetings themselves were considered social aid, like AA or something similar.” He paused to give everyone a moment to understand what this meant. “If they don't get the funding to keep the room empty for us, then we can't use that room.”

“So, we're cancelled because someone else is using that room?”

“Kind of,” he said carefully, “it's more that we've been cancelled because it's too expensive to let us have the room for free when they could be actively renting it out.”

Youngjae frowned. “But you could apply that to any week.”

“Which means this isn't the only week we've been cancelled,” Jongup said carefully.

Himchan looked at them all, watching their expressions to fro confusion to shock. “Yes,” he said quietly, “unfortunately, our meetings have been completely cancelled.”

“But what about us?” Daehyun protested, “We have to find somewhere else!”

“And they'll probably charge,” Youngjae said grimly.

“Could you host it here?” Junhong asked.

Himchan smiled a little. “As much of a good idea as that sounds, it would be a problem if Jonguppie was still feeling sick, and the rest of us would have to keep the place tidy and open for everyone. It's just not going to work on a weekly basis.

“Just when things start to look up.” Youngjae sighed and turned his can around in his hands.

 

Almost as though they were making up for the lost meetings, they ended up discussing how they were all doing.

“You're all happy now you've moved,” Daehyun teased at Youngjae with a wicked grin.

“Funny, almost like financial burdens can bring a guy's mood down.” Youngjae rolled his eyes.

“You seem better anyway since the first time we met,” Junhong said, then added, “You know,with yourself and everything.”

Youngjae shrugged. “I guess it's been a long time, and a lot has happened. Maybe I'm moving on?Who knows.”

“It has been a while,” Daehyun nodded, “people say time heals wounds, it's been a few months since we started meeting.”

“How long was it until the meetings began?” Junhong asked.

Youngjae blinked and hummed. “It was a real blur. I think about two months maybe?” His brow furrowed as he counted back. “I definitely paid two moths rent after my first deposit. And I had moved in when I did it, almost immediately after I moved in...”  
Junhong blinked as he listened, a small frown furrowing his brow.

“Probably just under two months, give or take a few days. It was a weird week.”

“Oh. S-so... Probably in the first week of that month?”

Himchan glanced over at the youngest, who had gone tense around the shoulders and jaw.

Youngjae glanced up as well. “Yeah. Most likely. They moved me in on the first.”

Junhong swallowed. “Was it a week day?”

Daehyun and Jongup were both starting to put the pieces together, glancing at each other with slowly widening eyes.

“Um. I didn't have a job at the time. Probably, yeah. I don't know exactly-” Youngjae began, speaking slowly, feeling a strange nervousness build in his chest.

“The fourth.”

The hair on the back of Youngjae's neck raised at Junhong's cold tone. “Junhong-”

“At twelve-thirty. It had rained for a while and it was the first day the sun was out.”

Youngjae felt like his insides had fallen out. He remembered streaks of sun through the window lighting the sweat on his skin, his watch slipping on his wrist. The painful realisation cut him open, and he new his face said it all. “Junhong-”

The youngest stood sharply. “I'm going home.”

“Junhog, wait,” Youngjae pleaded, getting up, “We should talk about this-”

“Talk about what? After all, it's not like you were even thinking about me, right?” Junhong retorted, voice thick with emotion.

“Junhong please, you know I-”

“I don't want to hear it,” he turned away, making for the door, “I'm glad to hear you're moving on. I'll go and do the same.”

Youngjae went to go after him, but Himchan grabbed his arm. “Let him go,” he said gently.

“But he's-”

“I know,” Himchan said gently, “but he needs to work himself out first. Give him a few days to get his head in place.”

Youngjae yanked his hand free, face screwed up and eyes wet. “I'm going to bed,” he said, voice weak.

Himchan nodded and watched him go.

“Maybe we should give him space too,” Daehyun said quietly.

“Good idea.”

 


	21. Prism

Junhong's phone buzzed. He would glance over and if it wasn't his agent or an important number he ignored it. Often it wasn't. Often it was Himchan. Or Daehyun. Or sometimes Jongup.  
It was never Youngjae.

He pressed his forehead against the cool surface of the mirror in the studio and closed his eyes. The lit frame glowed though his eyelids, sparking the memory of soothing blue light. A sharp lump formed in his throat. He'd never see that again.

And he knew exactly who'd done it to him.

He slammed a hand against the glass, doing nothing but bruising the heel of his palm. His arm went weak and his fingers trailed lines down the smooth glass. He swallowed hard, eyes stinging and lips trembling.

 

“You didn't have to come out,” Himchan said gently, watching a sweating Jongup take slow breaths in the shop aisle.

Jongup just shook his head in response. He couldn't keep staying in bed or he'd never get better. Not to mention Youngjae's moping was having a pretty hard knock-on effect.

“You need to sit down, come on.” He pushed the items back where they'd come from, one hand on Jongup's arm as he guided him out of the store.

They made it barely a few metres until Jongup was stumbling, pale and glistening with sweat. Himchan managed to locate a tiny café and sat him down. There were a few minutes when Jongup was alone at the table, wondering why his vision was going weird, until Himchan returned with a huge glass of water and forced him to drink it all.

“With everything going on we must've forgotten to keep an eye on your recovery.”

Jongup nodded a little, slowly coming to.

“I haven't seen your stitches in a while. How are they healing?”

A weird sense of dread filled him.

“Jongup?”

He blinked at Himchan. “Um.”

“Can I see them?”

He felt a sick panic stir in him at the thought of getting them out in public. It must have shown on his face as Himchan reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Let's go to the bathroom.”

He nodded, slightly sick with embarrassment or something else.

They found a disability access bathroom large enough to accommodate the two of them, and Himchan carefully peeled back Jongup's shirt and dressing to see the stitches beneath.

“Oh. Shit.”

The wound was swollen and red, the stitches stretching over shiny skin and indenting where they went in. There was a very unhealthy yellowness along the wound, crusty and sticky with a sour smell. The purpling bruise from the surgery didn't seem to have faded at all, instead his whole torso had a strange bruise-like quality to it.

“Jongup, this is really bad,” Himchan breathed, “haven't you been changing it?”

“Couldn't sit up,” Jongup mumbled in response.

“Shit.”

He pulled the dirty dressing off, figuring it was better to let the wound get air than suffocate in dirty bandages, apologising gently when Jongup hissed and flinched in pain. Gathering toilet paper in his hand in a thick clump he wet it and slowly, gently wiped the wound as clean as he could manage it. Jongup's breath caught several times, cursing quietly under his breath. When he had done as much as he could he binned the yellowed, semi-disintegrated lump. He pulled Jongup's shirt down and felt a pang of guilt when he could see the damage through the fabric.

“Relax a minute, maybe wash your face, I'm calling Daehyun.”

Jongup nodded and gripped the edge of the sink as Himchan brought up Daehyun's number, wiping his face weakly with a wet hand.

“Hey-” Daehyun's voice sounded slightly worried.

“Hey, listen. I need you to do a few things for me. Pick up some supplies for cleaning wounds and go to mine. Youngjae is in. Make sure he eats. I'm taking Jongup to the hospital.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“I'll fill you in once I'm there. Just check on Youngjae and let him know.”

“Okay But-”

He hung up and pocketed his phone, escorting Jongup slowly but firmly from the bathroom and through the café. “Come on, it's not far. Once you're in the car you can rest. Just hold on.”

Jongup stumbled behind him. His chest was burning and stinging. His stomach felt weird and his skin cold. His vision started to blur in and out of focus. “Himchan...I don't....”

“You can make it. Come on, not far now.” Himchan squeezed his wrist gently, hating how thin it felt under his hand. Had Jongup not been eating properly?

They made it outside, Jongup swaying and sweating and breath uneven. They were only a few minutes from where Himchan had parked. He could sit Jongup on a nearby bench and drive the car to him.

If they could just make it.

“Him... Chan...”

“It's okay, Jonguppie, just breathe.”

“Can't-”

Himchan's phone buzzed in his pocket and he grumbled, suspecting Daehyun was demanding more answers. He pulled it from his pocket, not checking the name, scowling. “Yes, what?” He glanced back just in time to see the worst possible thing.

“Help,” Jongup breathed, white as a sheet. His eyes rolled back, knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground.

“Fuck!” Himchan dropped his phone, ignoring the voice speaking and the sound of glass cracking. “Jongup! Shit, someone call a paramedic!”

Passer-by's rushed to get help, clearing the area where Himchan cradled Jongup's head on his lap.

His phone sat a few feet away.

“Hello? Mr. Kim? This is the community hall management. We're just calling to confirm that your meeting slot has been officially removed from the rota and is being hired out to other groups. Hello?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO ends part 2/3. I get to take a break for like a month now and work on my degree and maybe other fics.  
> Anyway welcome to the angst hope you're suffering!  
> If you want to support me updating this soon or generally want to support my writing, consider buying me a coffee (https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK)


	22. Sickness and Blush

Everything was somehow heavy and achey and at the same time numb and floaty. He felt like the moment he'd been hit by the bike – the force of the impact still ringing through his body on one side, the rest of him suspended in the air. He felt... Not awful, but not great either. Which was better than he had felt for a while.

He couldn't see, but somehow he was enveloped in some sort of silvery green light. He became suddenly aware that his eyes were shut. It took a magnanimous amount of effort to crack them open, immediately seared by bright white light above him. He blinked, vision blurry without glasses or contacts. Sounds began to fade in. Machines beeping. Something humming. Distant voices.

Someone gently snoozing.

He mustered every ounce of effort to turn his head, just barely seeing someone out of the corner of his eye.

Jongup squinted. “Why...?”

 

Himchan fretted in the waiting room, wringing his hands together. It had been hours of minimal information from doctors, pacing around, chugging bitter coffee from the machine and trying to stop himself from crying with distress. He knew stressing wouldn't do anything, and bothering doctors for updates would probably cause more problems, but the tense sickness in his stomach refused to shift.

He was draining the fifth cup of coffee that day when someone approached. He didn't look up immediately, seeing the worn jeans and knowing it wasn't a doctor with any news. He figured someone was just coming over to check he wasn't about to have a heat attack from all the caffeine. Then the person sat next to him and he looked over.

“How is he?” Yongguk asked. His hair was a little unkempt, pulled back from his face in a messy ponytail. His eyes were lined either from lack of sleep or stress, or both. He'd wrapped Tigger's leash around his fingers several times, fiddling with it.

“Not good,” Himchan answered after a moment, collecting himself out of his surprise. “The doctors said he'll make it, but he still hasn't stabilised yet. They're being really quiet about everything. I have no idea what's going on.”

Yongguk just nodded once in response, then raised a hand up to press against his mouth, hunching over. Tigger stepped closer to him, pushing his paws down on his foot.

They sat in silence. Himchan stared down at his cup, the flimsy plastic dented under his fingers. He could see Yongguk shifting now and then, fingers rubbing against his nose. At a quick glance he could see all the other patients in various states of ill health, and the amount of antiseptics out.

“Do you... Want to step outside?” he asked gently.

Yongguk nodded quickly and stood.

They found a quiet place outside with a bench where no one was smoking or hanging around. The air was a bit cleaner and there was less background noise.

“Yongguk,” Himchan began, voice a little strained, “I'm sorry. For how I was last time. On our date.”

Yongguk looked at him, eyes a little wide. “I've been thinking about it. A lot.”

Himchan nodded. “Yeah. I can understand that.”

“Why were you- Why did-” Yongguk made a small frustrated sound, unable to put together the words he needed.

Himchan looked down at his feet. “I'm sorry. I really wanted to go on that date with you, and I really wanted it to turn out well. But...”

Yongguk waited silently.

“I haven't been honest with you. About me.” He swallowed, looking anywhere but at the man beside him. There's a reason Jongup and I ended up living together. We have a lot in common, experiences wise. Like. In terms of not being cisgender.”

Yongguk was quiet for a moment as he processed this. “So. You're also a transgender guy?”

“No- well. I describe myself as transgender sometimes. It depends. But I was born male, I'm just not necessarily male now.”

“So... You're a girl?”

He pressed his lips tight for a second. “Sometimes. I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.”

“So you're sometimes a girl but sometimes not?”

“I would say it's more feminine and masculine.”

“So, you're fluid?”

Himchan looked up at him quickly. “You know about that?”

“Um. Not at first?” Yongguk fumbled with the leash. “I was asking Jongup a few questions. He sent me some links. It, um, took me a while to get my head around. But, um, I like you so I guess I can't see why I'd have any issue with it.”

Himchan stared at him silently for a moment, then groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Yongguk jumped a bit. “Are you okay?”

“I'm an idiot,” Himchan mumbled back.

“I can't tell if you want me to agree with you or not.”

He glanced up between his fingers and smiled a bit. “I'm sorry for thinking you'd be, I don't know, weird or ignorant or rude about it. I've just... Met a lot of bad people. I didn't want you to turn out to be one of them.”

“Okay. I get that. But you can't assume I might be and judge me before you know.”

“I know, I know. I get I'm an idiot.” Himchan let out a bitter laugh. “You must hate me now.”

Yongguk shrugged. “Not really. It's true you upset me, a lot. But now I know why you were like that I can understand. So, I don't hate you or dislike you.”

“That's reassuring.” He smiled a little. “I did try, even if it didn't look like I did. It's just- it's hard when I wear clothes that don't feel right. It's like wearing a costume. I just feel awful.”

Yongguk nodded a little. “I get it. It's hard to repress who you are. It's hard when you have to give up your own comfort in the hopes of not upsetting other people. I spend a lot of time trying not to be... Myself. Too much.”

Himchan looked at his face and sighed a little. “I'm sorry. I guess I really ruined it for us, huh.”

Yongguk was quiet, then spoke very carefully. “Now that we've talked. And now we both know. I wouldn't mind us trying another date – only if you wanted to. But, I would like to try again when we're both comfortable.”

Himchan straightened up. “Seriously?”

Yongguk nodded.

Himchan let out a long, deep sigh as weight fell from his shoulders and slouched against Yongguk. “I would like that. I would really like that.”

Yongguk smiled softly.

“After all this is done, though.”

“Of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the start of part 3 - the final section.  
> Updates will be slower than usual due to various things, but if you want to support me and encourage quicker updates please throw a little charity my way either via my ko-fi or patreon!  
> https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK  
> https://www.patreon.com/oskawrites


	23. Frosted Pine

Daehyun felt like the life had been sucked out of him when he cracked his eyes open, heavy and tired. Everything around him was hazy and when he blinked there was a strange green tint behind his eyes. The distant beep of hospital sounds surrounded him and it took a moment for his memory to piece together why he was there at all.

 

“Youngjae!” Daehyun kicked the door, arms busy wrapped around bags to spare a knuckle to knock. “Hey! Let me in.”

The door opened, revealing a very disgruntled Youngjae. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

“Himchan called, Jongup's in hospital,” he explained quickly, pushing in through the door past the younger.

“He's what?”

“I don't know what's going on either. Himchan didn't explain.” He dropped the supplies onto the closest table. “Did you eat?”

Youngjae was visibly taken aback. “Did I- what? Daehyun now is not the time.”

“Himchan told me to make sure you eat! I don't know what's going on, so I'm just doing this until it makes sense!”

“But I don't want to eat, I want to see Jongup.”

He huffed, scowling. “So do I, but if you're being all sad and not eating and then you faint in the middle of the hospital you're going to mess everything up!”

“Nowhere better to faint.”

He pouted to the best of his ability while still in a state of mild panic.

“Why don't we grab food on the way to the hospital. That counts, right?”

Daehyun took a moment to think about it. “Fine. But it's got to be good food not cheap greasy stuff. Otherwise you might as well not have eaten anything.”

 

Despite Daehyun's words, they mostly grabbed an array of cheap street foods on their journey – though he insisted they eat enough to count as a full meal. He wasn't sure if it was out of carefor the younger or an attempt to eat away his worries. In an attempt to bring some sort of health to the whole ordeal he bought them both fruit juices which claimed to be packed with vitamins that they both chugged before reaching the steps of the hospital and a fruit bar each. Youngjae seemed to mostly appreciate the free food without much complaint.

They found Himchan pacing the waiting room.

“What are you doing here?” He growled as soon as he laid eyes on them, “I told you to go to mine and make sure Youngjae eats.”

“I did!” Daehyun protested, a bit offended, “I left a whole bag of stuff there and Youngjae ate on the way here and now we want to know how Jongup is.”

Himchan eyed them both, then sighed heavily. “I don't know how he is,” he admitted, “neither do the doctors, by the sound of it. It looks like there's a really deep infection.” He made his way to a seat and sank down onto it.

Daehyun and Youngjae settled either side of him, both putting hands on his back.

“He'll be fine! He's tough. He's had worse before,” Daehyun said half-heartedly.

“These are like the best doctors in the country. They'll have seen way worse than whatever's going on with him. He'll be back up in no time.”

Himchan nodded, but didn't look any more convinced.

At some point Youngjae got up to get them all coffee and Himchan sagged against Daehyun's shoulder.

“It's going to be okay,” he said gently.

Himchan nodded.

He rubbed a circle into his back. “I'm sorry I wasn't there more. I should have helped out. I- I didn't think-”

Himchan glanced up and frowned. “Don't think. That's a stupid line of thought. You've done plenty of us, for him. You've been a great source of support. We love you a lot, Daehyunnie. This was just- a mistake that slipped under the radar.”

Daehyun nodded, but still felt a sick guilt weighing in his stomach.

“If it's anyone's fault it's mine.”

“Don't say that.”

“It is! I was supposed to be looking after him.” Himchan hit himself, gentle but with a certain amount of malice.

“You did all you could. Like you said. It went under the radar.”

Youngjae returned a moment later with hot coffee and they all drank in silence, stewing in their own thoughts.

 

“It's not as bad as we thought,” a student doctor explained carefully to an intently listening Himchan, “but it might take much longer than we'd like for him to stabilise.”

“Why?” Youngjae asked, eyes narrowed.

The student doctor looked slightly irritated at the interruption. “He's an O blood type, which though can be a universal donor can only receive from other O, which unfortunately over the past few months have been very low in donation and as a result are being limited to urgent care in rations. Hospitals around the country are all struggling with very low blood donation anyway.”

“Shit,” Himchan breathed. “How long are we talking?”

“We can just about stabilise him and treat him but we can't do anything surgery wise for some time. If in a pinch we'd have to fly him abroad. It could be anywhere between days to weeks.”

Himchan looked like he was about to be sick.

Daehyun's head reeled as he took in the information. His brain latched onto a single detail. “W-wait. What blood type?”

“O-negative.”

“I'm O-negative!”

Himchan and Youngjae both turned sharply to him.

“Are you able to donate?” The doctor asked, caution on the side of impatience.

“Yeah, I'm registered.” He dug in his pocket for his wallet and took out his donor card. “I haven't donated since last year. I didn't have time.”

The doctor looked very intense suddenly. “Would you be willing to donate for this procedure?”

“Of course I would!”

“There's some paperwork you'll have to do before hand. Have you eaten?”

Daehyun nodded.

“Come with me.”

Daehyun glanced back at the other two and gave a quick thumbs up to their stated faces, before following the young doctor.

 

There had been a lot of paperwork. Then a quick checkup. Then a bit more and then he'd been put on a doctors chair and his arm wiped and OW a sharp needle then a mask on his face...

 

He blinked as he vision started to clear, the fuzzy shape in front of him slowly turning into a familiar face. He cracked a tired smile.

“Hey, Jonguppie.” His throat was dry.

Jongup blinked, brow furrowing. “Why...” He looked way worse then Daehyun felt.

“Blood brothers,” he chuckled and raised his hand to show him the tube coming out of his arm. He became suddenly aware of a glowing light trailing down over his chest and wrapped around where the needle met his skin.

He blinked and tried to sit up a bit, raising his heavy head to stare at the bright light. He followed its trail wrapped around the tubed and over to where Jongup lay. It twisted around his arm towards where the blood was still being fed into his veins, then continued up onto his chest. It ended at his heart. Daehyun blinked a few times, then looked down where his end met his own chest. He could feel a strange warmth in his heart.

“What...?”

“Ah, you're awake.” A smiling doctor looked over them from between the drawn curtains. She stepped in and walked over to check the machines at their sides. “We'd normally have you separated by now, but, given the circumstances...” Her smile widened. “Congratulations. You both should heal a little faster now, though unfortunately Mr. Moon you will be here a little longer than Mr. Jung. Only a few days until we can be certain it's worked out and you won't be at risk of infection again. Don't worry, visitor hours are much more flexible for fated.” She gently took Daehyun's arm and removed the needle, wiping the area and putting a plaster over the top. With a few more quick checks and tidying the equipment up she left with a final 'congratulations'.

Daehyun was stunned. He stared down at the glowing trail, still putting it all together. “It was you... All along?” He looked over and was alarmed to find Jongup with one hand pressed against his mouth, tears rolling down his face. “Don't cry, Jonguppie. I promise I'm not that bad!”

“It's not that-” Jongup managed to sob out, moving his hand to his cheeks to wipe the tears. “I'm- I'm so happy.”

Daehyun felt his heart melt. “Aw. Jonguppie.”

“I didn't ruin it,” he choked out, tears rolling freshly between his fingers. “I didn't ruin it for us. I didn't ruin it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look it's the boys being fated finally a happy thing happens.   
> Can you tell I don't know anything about how hospitals or doctors work.  
> Anyway donate blood kids  
> or donate to me so I can update fast and not starve   
> https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK  
> https://www.patreon.com/oskawrites


	24. Painting Roses

Youngjae had been thoroughly unhelpful for Himchan's stress. With both Daehyun and Jongup under the gloved hands of the doctors there was a whole extra level of anxiety for how well they'd come out of it. Youngjae paced and wrung his hands and tugged his hair and chewed his nails. Himchan was on the verge of asking a doctor to sedate him.

“If you keep going like this I'll trip you,” he eventually said. He meant something a little more violent, but he didn't want to be kicked from the waiting room.

“But they're both in there! What if his blood isn't compatible and it poisons Jongup? What if they bleed him dry?”

“They won't bleed him dry.”

“You don't know that!”

Himchan stood and stuffed his empty paper coffee cup in the nearest recycling bin, mostly to stop himself from throwing it at Youngjae.”They're professional doctors. We just have to wait.

“How can you be so calm? This is horrible!”

Himchan fixed him with a stern look. “This isn't the first time I've been in a waiting room while Jongup has surgery,”

Youngjae looked away and resumed his pacing, albeit less frenzied.

“Does Junhong know?” Himchan asked.

Youngjae stopped.

“Have you talked to him?”

Youngjae shook his head. “I don't know what to say.”

“That's new.”

Youngjae glared at him.

“Look. You need to talk to him. He won't respond to the rest of us. He's going to feel much more isolated like this.”

“He won't want to hear from me.”

“Yes he will.” He put a hand on Youngjae's shoulder and pulled him along so they both sat on nearby chairs. “You're probably the only person he wants to hear from right now.”

“So- what? I just call him and go 'Hey Junhong! Sorry about being a total shitlord. By the way, Jongup's in hospital and so is Daehyun'?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

The younger let out a heavy breath.

“He wants to talk to you. Just call him.” He smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

Youngjae nodded and took a deep breath. “Ok. Ok, fine. Ill do it now.”

He nodded and patted his back, then watched the other leave to make the call.

He was alone again.

 

 

Yongguk was much better company. Once the tension dissipated and they were talking normally again, Himchan felt the stress slowly unwind from his shoulders. Time passed easier with the older's comforting presence. Even Youngjae, who had fretfully rushed around the hospital looking for them when he returned from his phone call, settled down.

They were drinking another coffee when a nurse found them.

“They're all done and resting if you want to see them.”

It was a bit of a mad rush to the ward, trying their best not to be disruptive while also desperate to check on the two boys. They were relieved to see Daehyun settled in a bedside chair with a warm drink and a box of snacks, only looking a little bit tired and pale. Jongup looked terrible, but at least alive.

“Oh thank God,” Himchan breathed as he pulled out enough chairs for everyone.

“Hey. Guys,” Jongup began,voice dry and croaky, “guess who's fated?” He raised his arms a bit, then flinched and let them fall back to the bed. “Daehyun you point.”

Daehyun, with a mouthful of sugary cereal bar, did an excited gesture between the two of them.

“It's ya boys.”

Himchan was stunned into silence as he processed the information. He sat down gently and placed a hand on Jongup's arm. “I'm so sorry the surgery went badly. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hey!” Daehyun protested. “It's not bad!”

“How are you fated? Your lines were severed.” Youngjae squinted as he sat down as well.

Daehyun shrugged. “Apparently they can be restored sometimes. Apparently with ours it was reliant on, uh, this, which is more common than people think. So, as long as I played the role of a donor it could be restored.”

“I'm a medical miracle,” Jogup laughed, voice still exhausted.

“You should say that after you get out,” Yongguk said gently. “You shouldn't curse it.”

 

Fortunately, it was not cursed. It was about a week of tests and careful rehab until Jongup was back home with orders to rest, move slowly, and take about a thousand medicines every day. As soon as he was sat back on the couch Himchan and Youngjae were doting on him, making sure he was comfortable and had water and food and wasn't hurting. Yongguk helped where he could, but struggled with the strong smell of healing sepsis and chemicals.

Himchan and Yongguk headed out to get some fresh air and bring back some junk food that Jongup had been missing. The air had a fresh breeze with a promise of a new start. The weather was starting to cool into crisp autumn and things were feeling less awful than ever.

Himchan leaned back against a table and rubbed his face. It was a long time since he'd last just had a chance to rest and look after his skin. The fast food chain wasn't going to improve things. “It's weird, isn't it? The thought that fate lines can be restored.”

Yongguk nodded, slowly rubbing Tigger's leash between his fingers. “Theirs was a physical one. I wonder how others would be restored. By meeting? By doing a certain thing?”

“I guess it depends if you're fulfilling some sort of prophecy or not.” Himchan sighs.

“Daehyun said something interesting to me.”

“Hm?”

“He said that the doctors explained it all to him. The line didn't restore immediately, but only when it was confirmed that his blood was being accepted normally. That's when it began. He said since that moment he hasn't felt so worried about things – or about people. Maybe it wasn't about the actual action of giving blood, but about just being helpful to him.”

“You continue to amaze me with your insight,” Himchan said with a smile. “They say fate lines are about personal development and your role in the others life. It makes sense. Daehyun always seems...” He trailed off thoughtfully. “A bit desperate.”

Yongguk nodded.”I can understand that. It feels that way, afterward.”

Himchan glanced at him. “It's been a long time for you, right?”

Yongguk nodded. “It's the six year anniversary on the eighteenth.”

It took a slow while for this information to absorb into Himchan's brain. “Six years? This month?”

“Yeah.”

His heart seemed very loud suddenly. “Oh.”

Yongguk frowned. “Are you okay? You look sick suddenly.”

Himchan opened his mouth and shut it a few times. His throat had gone dry. “It's nothing.”

“Uh. Okay.”

They waited in silence for a few minutes, Himchan reeling. He knew that date. He knew that date like it had been carved into his bones.

Their food was finally handed to them and they made the walk back quietly.

“You're doing it again,” Yongguk said halfway through.

“Huh?”

“The not telling me things.”

Himchan swallowed. What cold he say? “Um. I don't know if here or now is the right time to say it.

“When would be? If you don't say it now, will you ever say it?”

It was a good point.

“I think...” He began, voice a bit shaky, and slowly came to a stop.

Yongguk stopped as well and watched him expectantly.

“That day. Six years ago. I think that was me. I think I broke our line.”

Yongguk's expression slowly went completely blank.

“Yongguk?”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean 'okay'?”

“It was a long time ago. And I know you regret it. And I know it wasn't personal. Thank you for telling me.”

Himchan felt a little unsteady. “This is still a big thing.”

“It doesn't have to be.” Yongguk shrugged one shoulder and then turned, walking back to the flat.

Himchan followed after him quickly. “You're just accepting it?”

“What else can I do?”

He didn't have an answer.

When they reached the apartment, Yongguk handed over the other bag. “I'm going home. It's getting late.”

He nodded, not wanting to cause any more tension between them. As soon as Yongguk was out of sight he dropped his forehead against the door and groaned.

 

Yongguk only just made it back to his place before the shakes started. The way the world suddenly shifted and went out of focus around the edges. Colour drained while light got too bright. His breath caught- once- twice- three times-

Hyperventilating. Shaky legs. Dog paws. Burning eyes. Throat hurt.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Hot wet cheeks.

In-out-in-out-in-out-

Bitter taste on his tongue. Carpet under his fingers. Dog nose on his face, coarse tongue.

Heartbeat loud: thump, thump, thump-

He curled up tight, hands in his hair, and sobbed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me ya boy back with more angst.  
> If you want some resolutions to all this sad and you want it now please support me via:  
> https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK  
> https://www.patreon.com/oskawrites


	25. Sun sky

“Jongup's in hospital.”

Junhong didn't hear much else after this, just stared out the huge glass hotel window across the low-lying city to the sea. He was three hours from home and in ten minutes he had to head downstairs to meet with his team to do their next shoot. Even if he left now to go back to the others, he didn't even know where the nearest coach station was or when the next one home left.

 

Junhong discovered that higher beings were probably at power when he received a text that night of Jongup surrounded by everyone else, awake and supposedly fine.

He discovered they were absolutely in power when he managed to survive the heart attack when he read the follow-up text.

“They're fated?” He burst out down the phone the moment Youngjae answered.

“Wow. Hello to you to.”

“Youngjae!”

“Okay, yeah they are. A nurse took a photo of their fate line and everything. You'll have to ask Daehyun for it.”

“I thought it was broken?”

“Yeah. I guess it's recoverable. I think that's, like, a thing.”

Junhong absorbed the information silently, staring out at the night sky. The stars twinkled back at him, seemingly close despite the vast emptiness of space between them. He thought about constellations, the invisible lines that connected stars. He raised a finger and traced the lines of pisces.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, though Youngjae couldn't see him. “I just have a lot to think about.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe when I get back. So it doesn't have to be on the phone.”

There was a short pause. “So... Do you want to meet up?”

“Yeah.” He nodded again. “Maybe. I'll call you.”

“Okay, great, sure. Take care, okay?”

“Yeah. You too.” He hung up and let his phone drop into his lap. He stared out at the dark sky for some time, watching the stars, until he slowly fell back against the bed.

 

 

Youngjae nervously waited in the belt sushi chain. He'd already ordered himself the unlimited refills of green tea in the hopes of it calming his nerves, but was now worried it would just make him need to pee all the way through the afternoon. He pushed the ceramic cup between his fingers, letting the gentle steam warm his face. It was cool enough outside these days to justify a hot drink.

Junhong arrived not too long later, a jacket slung over his shoulders. He looked tired, but smiled at Youngjae when he spotted him. “Sorry I was late. The shoot went on for longer than I was expecting. It's for a really big brand and they wanted it perfect.”

He bit back his comment of 'I waited so long I started to measure for my coffin' and smiled back. “Well they had you, so it must be perfect, right?”

Junhong's face turned an interesting shade of pink.

“Um, how was your trip?” Youngjae said quickly, feeling strangely stupid for saying that.

“It was good. I guess. Is Jongup okay now? I haven't had a chance to see him.” Junhong shifted in his seat and reached for a plate on the belt.

“He's home. He looks less dead, but he's getting better. Daehyun practically lives with us now, so that's basically the worst thing that's ever happened to me.”

The younger snorted a laugh. “What about Yongguk? He and Himchan fell out, right?”

Youngjae hummed and took a plate, then broke his chopsticks apart. “They made up and he was hanging around for a few days.”

Junhong nodded and bit into his food. “That's good.”

“Not really. They had another falling out. I don't really know what about.”

“Oh.” Junhong frowned.

“Yeah. I don't think its about the same thing.”

“What was it about before?”

Youngjae shrugged as he chewed on a seaweed roll. “Something to do with his gender fluid stuff. I think he's had a hard time with it in the past. But Yongguk is, like, a decent human being who just wants him to be happy and the rest of us are sensible enough, I think. Himchan's a good person, so long as that's consistent I don't mind who or what he is at whatever point.” He shrugged and picked up another roll.

Junhong nodded. “That makes sense.”

He eyed him as he ate his roll. He waited to swallow before saying, “It's the same for you, too. Whoever you are, I just want you to be happy.”

The younger dropped his nigiri in shock, bits of sticky rice flying out from his grip. “What- I don't now what you're talking about.”

“Nothing. I'm just saying. I'm here for you.” He shrugged and kept eating.

Junhong didn't reply, shaking hands trying to pick up his food.

Youngjae spared him the awkward silence. “You should come visit Jongup. He misses you.”

Junhong nodded immediately. “Yeah. Good idea. I'll do that.”

He smiled, glad they were back to normal.

 

 

Junhong did eventually find the time to visit. Jongup was naturally elated that things were turning up for the better and the two bundled up on Jongup's bed with a controller each. Daehyun huddled at the foot of the bed with a bowl of snacks.

“As soon as Jongup is well enough to leave, I'm never hosting people here ever again,” Himchan grumbled, “It's way too packed in here.”

Youngjae laughed. “Don't worry, it's fine.”

“You say that, but I have to shell out if they spill anything on the carpet to clean it out.”

He hummed. “It's not long anyway.”

The older sighed. “I guess you're right. Now at least he has a bit more company I can rely on. I might have to take up more shifts.”

He nodded. “Sorry. It's been hard to find stable work.”

“That's not your fault.”

He couldn't help feeling that it was.

They both heard the distinct sound of someone loosing, followed by Jongup and Daehyun cheering and Junhong groaning.

“You're not allowed to let me win just because I'm sick,” Jongup warned.

“I didn't let you! I just got distracted,” the youngest huffed.

“That's an excuse, just admit you suck,” Youngjae called.

“I don't! I just... remembered something.”

“Games aren't time for remembering things, Junhongie,” Daehyun teased.

“It was because Youngjae talked about money. I just remembered. There's a position open with my company for a photographer.”

Youngjae was a little taken aback. “I don't know if I'm good enough for that.”

Himchan gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Sure you are. I'll help you build a CV. It can't hurt to try.”

He just hummed and nodded, trying not to smile too much when he caught Junhong's beaming expression. “Okay. Fine.”

 


	26. Pastel

Himchan paced back and forth through the living space. In the process of looking for the original apartment contract he'd stumbled into a box of forgotten belongings. Including his old engagement ring. The thing that had started it all.

“Nothing's going to get better unless you talk to him,” Daehyun said from the couch where he was attempting to beat Jongup in yet another video game.

Himchan shot him a glare. He was the exact reason he'd even gone looking in the first place – guests were definitely not allowed to stay for more than two nights, and Daehyun had been there nearly a week with the excuse of wanting to look after Jongup. He'd even gone to his part-time job and come back.

“You think I haven't tried? He just ignores my calls. And my texts. What else do I do? Write him a letter?”

Daehyun looked over with an open mouth, and immediately lost. “Ah! Damnit. But it's an idea, Himchan. Letters are more sincere.”

“Oh yeah. I'll wax lyrical on some Winnie The Pooh paper shall I? That'll fix everything,” he said dryly.

“He would appreciate it. He's an old-fashioned guy,” Jongup said gently, pausing the game to glance at Himchan. “It can't hurt to try.”

Himchan tisked under his breath. “Fine. But either way, Daehyun, I was still right. Get out of my damn apartment or start paying rent.”

“Maybe I will.”

“It's literally more than you make a month on your weekend job.”

“Maybe I won't.”

He rolled his eyes and retreated to his room to start planning out a letter.

 

_Dear Bang-_

Too informal.

_Dear Yongguk-_

Nope. The 'dear' looked a bit... Too endeared for an apology letter.

_Yongguk-_

Far too upfront and aggressive.

_Hi-_

Absolutely stupid.

He sighed heavily as he scratched out his billionth attempt at starting a letter and rubbed his temples. How the hell was he supposed to word 'sorry I was an idiot when I was a younger man and ruined your life and now I've brought back all your bad memories'?

Something like that, he supposed.

_I'm sorry for-_

God it was so stupid. Scratch that out. He chewed his pen, brow furrowed. How could he word it in a clean, least painful way he could manage in the time Yongguk might allow himself to read it?

_I did the unforgivable, and you suffered for it._

_Please let me make up for my mistakes._

_I hope this finds you well._

_-Himchan_

He debated putting an 'x' on the end and decided to forgo it, deciding it was a bit too over the top before Yongguk had even responded. He neatly copied it out onto a tidier piece of paper, folded it, then tucked it into an envelope. He'd post it the next time he went out.

 

“That's very romantic,” Youngjae said with a hint of amusement as he came back home from his new job, Junhong close behind him. “Are you going to spray it with perfume and put a rose on it?”

“I'll throw you out,” Himchan threatened only half-heartedly. “What else should I do?”

“How about one of us calls him and when he answers we pass to you?”

“Hm, is that deception?” Junhong said uncertainly.

“Yes, and it'll work.”

Youngjae tossed his jacket down and set down his bag, then walked over to the couch where Jongup and Daehyun were still playing to kick one of them over and join in. Junhong settled on the arm of the couch and watched with a grin.

“No, seriously, everyone just make themselves at home,” he said dryly.

“They will,” Youngjae said. “Jongup, you call him. You're ill and he's bonded with you a bunch.”

“Nah. He'll know,” Jongup said, “Also I don't want to be involved with all this. I've had enough of my own drama.”

“You call, Junhong. Who's to resist your doe-eyed charm?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” The youngest muttered.

“It's probably been a while since the two of you talked, right?” Daehyun pointed out, “He's probably most likely to respond to you than the rest of us.”

Junhong took his phone out and looked at it uncertainly. “This still seems... Kinda bad?”

“No one's forcing you,” Himchan said gently.

“I am. Call him.” Youngjae snatched Junhong's phone. “I'll do it now.”

“Hey-”

“Don't you-”

The deep ringing interrupted anything they had to say. Youngjae shoved the phone back to Junhong's ear with a thumbs up.

“I don't wan- Hi Yongguk!” The pained expression on his face was clear to everyone. “Uh. It's been a while since I saw you. Loads has happened.” He tugged on his shirt collar, thoroughly unprepared. “What's been going on? Nothing? Okay.”

Youngjae started gesturing at Himchan.

“Uh. I actually... There's someone who I was hoping you could talk to. Um. I'll just pass you over.”

Himchan attempted to fend the phone off, until Youngjae leaned over and forced it to his ear.

“No- don't you dare- Uh, hi.”

The call ended.

“Wow. He really hung up on you. Cold,” Daehyun commented unhelpfully.

“He must be in a bad place,” Jongup added, brow creased with concern.

“Thanks. It ruined everything.” Himchan tossed the phone back to Junhong, then cuffed Youngjae across the head. “Back to my plan, which is all I have left now.”

“I tried to help. You can't fault me.”

“I already am.” Himchan huffed and shook his head. “I'm going out to post this letter. The sooner the better. When I come back I'd like my apartment to look less like a hotel.”

 

The evening had a strange bite to the breeze. Summer seemed so long ago now. He filed the details and pressed the freshly purchased stamp to his tongue, then brushed his lips against it in a light kiss before attaching it to the envelope. His hand hovered for a moment before he dropped it into the post box.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are happening a little faster so I can finish this before November   
> As usual if you can spare something to support my work https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK


	27. Beach

Photography paid significantly more than his last job, Youngjae found. Hours were a bit here-and-there, but the pay made up for that. And though he was more or less doing the same thing over and over, what he was taking photos of changed by the day. Things were very much on the up-and-up for him.

He didn't see Junhong as uch as he thought he would. Turned out the model had been moved onto a new brand that were working on a huge marketing campaign. Youngjae wasn't really sure of all the details, but he was happy to know the younger was getting good work.

He stopped at an outdoor coffee stand and waited for his drunk, rubbing his eyes. He'd need new contacts soon if he was going to keep doing photography. The light kept reflecting on his lenses whenever he was looking at the tiny details. As he pushed his glasses back on, letting his eyes take a break from doing all the hard work of seeing properly, he caught glimpse of something.

The screen dominated the side of a high rise, the image bright and even from the distance he was at completely identifiable. Regardless, he still stepped forwards as though to get a closer look at the two models gazing out aloofly over the city. He couldn't help being in awe.

Junhong stared out the screen, face contoured and sharpened by makeup, eyed bright and intense. His body was draped in shining fabrics, intricate detail along the hems of the sleeves and all down the long skirt that cut along the length of his leg. The other model wore a similar print with a more masculine cut, face equally dramatic. The ANDROG caption blazed across the image behind them, and beneath their feet the clear words 'break out the binary'.

Youngjae grinned. That was one way for him to work out his identity.

He took his coffee and settled on the nearest bench to face the picture, taking in how serious and ethereal Junhong looked in the photo. It wasn't the man he knew, with his shy smiles and nervous self-doubt. But it was the man he was starting to know. The self discovery, the growing confidence, the social comfort. He'd been fond of who he'd met those months before – the polite curious guy who seemed to have everything together and still seemed so lost. But he really liked who he was getting to know – the funny affectionate guy who liked to play around and try new things. Apart from Himchan, he'd probably been the most helpful and reliable person he'd met.

He was smiling to himself when his phone buzzed. He slid it from his pocket and grinned when he saw the name.

“Speak of the devil.”

He opened the message to see a photo of the exact screen he'd been looking at,though Junhong's fingers were in frame holding a small bird face keychain over the second model's head. The message attached read, “It's us.”

He chuckled at the picture. He was glad that they were on good terms again. Glad that he even took the time to think about him, and send him pictures like this.

As these thoughts filled his head, a warmth blossomed in his chest. It didn't seem unusual at first, his usual feelings towards the other often felt like this, but something quickly caught his attention.

He glanced down and his eyes widened.

 

 

Junhong had waited a long time to see his most important work so far go up in public. He was a huge fan of the brand and had already requested to keep some of the items he'd modelled. Even before it had gone live, other brands were contacting his company for him to represent their lines. His heart had thumped in his throat as he ran delicate fabrics between his fingers, felt it hang loose from his shoulders and hips. He'd never been so in demand in his life.

He sat at a small sandwich store outside the building , looking up at the giant screen displaying the ad. His break was a little longer with how draining the shoots could be. He breathed in the air slowly, letting himself cool off away from the hot lamps and cameras. He'd hoped he'd at least see Youngjae around at his building, but his new workload had made it impossible. He fiddled with the keys to the studio and chewed on his lip. He should message him. He should make sure they don't drift apart, not after everything.

He glanced down at the keys and grinned. There was a little yellow bird character attached to the keys. Something about its face reminded him of Youngjae. He held it up in front of him, then glanced at the picture in the distance. He moved the bird head across to cover the other model and laughed to himself.

He like Youngjae. He liked Youngjae a lot. He liked how secure he was – when he wasn't having an existential crisis. He liked how determined he was to make sure everyone else was okay too. He liked the unconditional support, kindness and good humour. He couldn't help feeling that everything he'd managed to achieve up to this point was because Youngjae had never once given up on him. Which felt a bit dramatic.

He wondered if he should text that to him.

He instead took a photo of the bird over the giant picture and sent it to him, figuring it would do. He sent it and let his hands fall to his lap. He wished he was a little better at being openly expressive, like Youngjae was.

He really liked Youngjae.

As he thought this, a warmth built in him and for a moment he wondered if the sun was shining on him. Then he looked down.

 

 

Youngjae had dropped his coffee, ignoring the hot splash against his legs as he took off. He'd never had reason to run so hard in his life, and his legs had no idea how to carry him, but he sprinted hard and fast as he could as the white line grew further out from his chest, glowing brightly.

People stopped to watch, stepping out of the way of the line to let him get through. It wasn't unusual to see, but it was interesting enough to make them talk among themselves as he sprinted past.

He paid them no mind. Too intent on chasing the line. He only had one thought in his head.

_Junhong._

 

 

Junhong nearly fell back in shock as the line grew out from his body. He pushed himself up, knees weak for a moment, but managed to stumble out after it. His long legs took a moment to coordinate, and soon he was bounding down the streets, barely able to comprehend what was happening. He'd just been sat there, doing nothing, just thinking.

Thinking about...

_Youngjae._

 

 

They caught sight of each other across the square, their paths already cleared and lines met in the middle. Youngjae slowed, breath ragged and side stitched and leg muscles screaming for rest. Junhong slowed to a stop in front of him, watching him with mild concern.

Youngjae panted and reached a hand out to rest on Junhong's chest to support himself. When the younger opened his mouth to say something, Youngjae raised a hand to stop him, still sweating and struggling for breath.

It was a few minutes of Youngjae dramatically pulling himself together before he straightened up and put his hands on his hips, fixing Junhong with a firm look. “Fixed it.”

Junhong blinked, then snorted a laugh. “What?”

“The, uh.” he waved a hand at the glowing line that was tangled around their legs and draped across the floor. “Fate line. It's fixed. I fixed it.” He flicked his hair from his face.

He laughed again. “What? You fixed it?”

“Yep! All myself.”

“Uh, no, I fixed it too.”

“Nah. I'm sure it was me.” Youngjae flashed him a grin.

Junhong rolled his eyes. “Sure. Ok.”

“So. I guess it's all good now?”

Junhong raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. I guess. But it's been good for a while now.”

“I know that,” Youngjae huffed. “I just meant. This.”

Junhong laughed gently.

“So I was-”

“Do you-”

They both stopped.

“Oh. You go first.”

“No, no, you first. Mine can wait a moment.”

Youngje looked at him uncertainly, but nodded. “Um. I was wondering if you'd want to go on a date. You know. Now it's all good.”

“Oh!” Junhong's eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“You seem really surprised, you don't have to-”

“No, I want to! I just, uh, wow I feel a bit weird saying what I was going to say.”

Youngaje frowned.”Why?”

“I was going to ask how you felt about me using neutral pronouns.”

He snorted and leaned forward, pressing his face against the other's shoulder. “Go by whatever makes you happy. I just want you to be happy.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.”

 


	28. Lips & Tongue

Three weeks of no responses. Himchan had had enough. He was done feeling guilty and now he just wanted to face the issue head on. Which meant facing the man head on.

It felt a bit different standing outside Yongguk's apartment building. His heart shook in his chest. He took a breath and pushed the buzzer for Yongguk's apartment.

Long silence.

He buzzed again and waited.

Nothing.

He frowned and glanced around, wondering if Yongguk had gone out. His eyes settled on the mail boxes. Yongguk's was packed, the little flap open with envelopes and flyers stuffed inside. He squinted and spotted his own handwriting in the clump.

He let out a heavy sigh, realising things might be worse than he thought. He took a chance and buzzed Yongguk's neighbour.

“Hello? Who is it?” Came the curious voice from the other side.

“Hi, sorry to bother. I'm friends with your neighbour. I haven't heard from him in a while and I was hoping you could help me out a bit. Do you know if he's in?”

“Ah. Yeah. He's in. I heard his music earlier. Want me to buzz you in?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

The door made a fuzzing sound then clicked. Himchan pushed it open and rushed inside. He pushed himself into the elevator and mashed the button impatiently. When it finally reached the floor he squeezed out before the doors had even opened properly.

“Yongguk?” He knocked on his door. “Yongguk, I know you're in. Open up.”

“You his therapist?”

He nearly jumped out his skin and turned sharply to look at the man poking his head out of the nearby door. He was probably about his age, but much shorter with a wide-eyed amused expression on his face.

“Uh, no,” Himchan replied, “Just a friend. Sort of. It's complicated.”

“Yeah. He's a complicated guy. I got used to seeing him at least once a week for a while until he just disappeared again. I don't think he's been out in weeks. I'm not sure how he'd holding up – he never orders food.”

Himchan growled. “Fuck's sake.” He knocked hard on the door again. “Yongguk!” He gripped the door handle to shake it, and instead found it pushing down under his hand and the door opening.

“Good luck.” The man grinned at him and headed back into his own apartment. “Make sure he doesn't die.”

Himchan shook off the sudden confusion and instead pushed forwards into the apartment. “Yongguk, your door was unlocked. I'm coming in.” He glanced around with a frown.

The place was a mess. Clothes were draped across the floor along with bedding and stacks of dirty plates and bowls. The air was stale and stunk of body odour and rotting food and dog filth. Empty bottles were gathered in seemingly random places. Himchan choked and his eyes stung as he tried to manage the overwhelming smells that somehow lingered in his throat.

Then he spotted Yongguk. The man was huddled in a bundle in his duvet, the sheets stained and stiff looking. His eyes were sunken, hair lank, cheeks hollow. Tigger sat at his side, head down, tail drooped.

“For fucks sake.” He marched across the room and crouched down in front of Yongguk. “Look at the state of you. You've just been hiding in here this whole time?”

“Himchan?” Yongguk asked, voice weak and bewildered like he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not.

“Your breath stinks. All of you stinks. You need to wash.”

Yongguk looked down and didn't respond.

“I bet the bathroom is just as bad as here. Fantastic,” he grumbled bitterly. “Right, give me this, sit somewhere that isn't the most disgusting place, and wait until I call you.” He pulled the duvet until Yongguk relented.

“But-”

“Nope. You listen to me until you're at least halfway capable of being a person.”

Yongguk obediently made his way to a chair by his dining table.

Himchan rolled his sleeves up and tossed all the clothes and bedding in one corner, then gathered all the plates and bowls and bottles and anything else that needed washing up and took it to the kitchen. He filled the sink with hot soapy water and dumped it all in, deciding to deal with it properly later. He threw a window open to let the air in as he tidied the worst of it, then made his way to the bathroom.

It was miraculously not-awful. Which suggested Yongguk genuinely hadn't been using it properly. He wiped the surfaces down to clear the dust, then filled the bath with hot water. He found a bath bomb that had probably been a gift and tossed it in. The light scent of flowers was a welcome one.

“Get in the bath,” he ordered as he came out.

“But-”

“Get in or I'll throw you in.”

Yongguk obeyed again, a bit more reluctantly.

“I'll check on you to make sure you're not dying in there.”

“I don't think that's-”

“I have seen your bare arse enough times for one more to matter.”

Yongguk had the dignity to look embarrassed, and retreated to the bathroom.

Himchan set to work. There wasn't a lot he could do in his time-frame, but he gave it his best. He wiped all the filth up, hoovered, scrubbed at stains and filled the washing machine with sheets and covers. The worst was over, but he'd still need to properly wash plates, wash the clothes, clear out the dog litter box and, he realised after nosing around the cupboards, actually get some real food in Yongguk. He'd make the latter easier and just order.

He barged in on Yongguk a few times, each time receiving a reproachful complaint from the man soaking under an inch of pastel glittery froth. He didn't care much.

By the time he was finally out of the bath, Himchan had found him a clean towel and a single oversized clean tshirt and a pair of underwear he wasn't certain were clean, but didn't stink like everything else.

“Why are you doing this?” Yongguk asked after a stunned moment, looking around his nearly clean apartment with his towel over his wet hair.

“Because you can't,” Himchan retorted, “I need you to empty the dog litter. I'm not doing it.”

Yongguk glanced over at it with a scrunched nose.

“It is the only thing I'm asking you to do. Just toss it all in a bin bag and I'll take it downstairs later.”

Yongguk sighed heavily and again did as he was told.

Himchan scrubbed the plates and looked at their options for food. “What do you want to eat?”

“Nothing.”

“Nope. You're eating something.”

“Ramen.”

“There's no ramen place that delivers.”

“I don't want anything else.”

Himchan had to gently set the glasses aside before he broke them in frustration. “Fine. I'll pick up ramen.

Yongguk looked over at him. “You don't have to.”

“Obviously I do. Because you won't eat otherwise.”

 

 

Himchan made a round trip, stopping by a local store to fill up on easy-to-cook foods that were at least somewhat healthy that he knew Yongguk could stomach. He also picked up various products like dry shampoo and dry body washes that he could use when the depression his bad again. He also grabbed a packet of cheap underwear just so there'd be no waiting around for it all to finish washing and drying. Better to have something than nothing.

Yongguk accepted it all, though was thoroughly ashamed of himself. Himchan changed his bedsheets as he ate, and made sure Tigger was okay. Fortunately it seemed that all Yongguk's energy had been spent on feeding and cleaning his dog, which was something.

“I can't stay tonight, I have to make sure my home isn't housing the entire country,” he grumbled as he re-filled all the cupboards. “I'll come back tomorrow after work. Please have tried to not fall apart again. Also your postbox is spilling, go collect it and I'll help you sort through all of it.”

Yongguk poked his last bits of food with a chopstick. “You shouldn't bother with me. Just go home and let me sort myself out.”

Himchan glared. “Oh. Will you sort your own post and wash all your clothes and air the flat and cook yourself food and wash yourself?”

Yongguk frowned and didn't reply.

“I thought so.”

 

 

True to his word, Himchan returned the next day, armed with pre-cooked meals and a wad of notes the rest had all written. He stuck them around the apartment where Yongguk could see them.

The older man was visibly choking back tears as his home was filled with colourful, positive, supportive and loving messages everywhere he looked.

“They insisted on it. It's a good idea,” Himchan explained as he sorted the laundry.

“Yeah,” Yongguk nodded, “I- I like it.”

He glanced up and smiled. “I thought you might. How's the pile looking?”

Yongguk glanced down at the wad of letters. Himchan had binned all the flyers and junk and divided the rest into 'urgent' and 'to be decided'. His fingers turned a letter over in his hands. “I found the one you wrote.”

Himchan nearly snapped his neck looking up. “Oh. No. You don't need to see it.”

“No I- I appreciate it. Thank you for writing to me.” Yongguk gave him a small, shy smile. “I'm sorry I worried you.”

Himchan nearly wept into the pile of unwashed socks. “It's fine. Well, it's not. But it's fine now.”

Yongguk nodded and tucked the letter into his pocket, then went back to going through the urgent pile.

Himchan tried to hold it together as he kept sorting the clothes.

 

“Okay, so I made you a list of little chores to do while I'm away. I'll stop by for an hour or so every day after work to help you out- but I can't manage much more or Jongup might miss me,” Himchan explained, attaching a large neat list to the fridge with little magnets.

“I think I can manage that,” Yongguk said with a nod and a tired smile. He'd been better, but not much. Doing more than one or two things still exhausted him and Himchan had to apply a mix of tough love and gentle support to keep him out of his dark thoughts. But he was okay.

“I can still cook for you, and if I have to I will wash your hair again for you, but I'd rather not have to do that every time you spill something and then lie in it because you're sad.”

“That was one time.”

“Once can always be twice, can always be thrice. Or whatever. Wash your own hair when you mope.”

“I will.”

“I was also thinking I'd get you a scented candle for days when you can't clean up so well. What scents work for you?” Himchan tapped his lips with the end of his pen, ready to take notes on his every growing list of little things to do.

Yongguk blinked, then snorted out a laugh.

“What?” Himchan frowned.

“Wow. You really are my fated. This is like being married.”

“Well this one's more reliable than my last marriage.”

Yongguk was speechless.

“What? I can make that joke! It was my marriage that fell apart!” He retorted, half indignant and half laughing at Yongguk's expression.

“Uh. Okay. If you want to.”

“I do want to. Because apparently I can only love people who cause me distress, which is why I had to break into your dirty hole and sort you out.”

Yongguk blinked. “Love?”

Himchan stiffened. “I'm going to go now.”

“Wait-”

“I'll see you tomorrow, Yongguk!” He said quickly, gathering his things and heading to the door.

“Himchan!”

“Okay love you, bye- damnit!” He restrained from smacking himself as he left. “Just do your chores!”

Yongguk watched him go with a fond smile.

 


	29. Sunny Field

“You're moving out?” Jongup's eyes were wide. For the first time in a while he was washed and fully dressed and in the middle of cleaning up the apartment after Junhong and Daehyun had left.

“It's not far, you know Yongguk's apartment is only ten minutes away,” Himchan reassured him gently.

Jongup didn't look convinced. Neither did Youngjae.

“But we've been doing fine together. If this is about us having our fated over all the time, you can't really blame us.”

Himchan rolled his eyes. Since the public event several weeks before, Youngjae had taken every opportunity to mention his fate line. It was somewhere between endearing and very annoying. Himchan was just barely managing not to feel the pang of jealousy.

“It's not that, I'd just kick you all out of that was the issue. I just think for Yongguk's benefit it would be easier if I was there the entire time rather than just stopping by for a bit after work and on weekends. He's going to be in this rut for a while, and who knows when it will happen again in future? I want to be there for him when he needs the support.”

“That's very sweet, but we're not going to be able to pay rent if you leave. We don't know anyone else we'd want to move in and I don't think I can handle another move this year.” Youngjae crossed his arms, chewing his lip.

Himchan frowned and settled down on the arm of the couch. “Well, I could probably help out with your rent until either of you finds a way of paying for the extra. I won't be paying rent at Yongguk's since I'll be doing chores and getting him groceries. He makes enough to pay his own rent and bills.”

“Well, if it's what you think is right...” Jongup shrugged a little.

Himchan squinted at the younger man. “You're okay with it?”

A nod.

“You're sure?”

Another nod.

“Even though we've been living together for years?”

Jongup pressed his lips tight.

Himchan smiled and pushed off the arm to walk over to him, arms out. “Jonguppie, you know I'll come visit, right?”

Jongup groaned and leaned into his arms, pushing his face against his shoulder. “You're leaving me.”

“I'm not,” he reassured, stroking his hair gently.

“Abandoning me.”

“Giving you the space to stand on your own. Besides,you have Younjgae here and Daehyun to bother you every day. There's more than just me now. Isn't that good?”  
Jongup groaned and hugged him tight.

“Wow guys, get a room,” Youngjae teased.

“We did. Then you moved in.”

 

 

“Last time I helped with moving I ended up leaving halfway,” Junhong mumbled as they carried a weighty box of Himchan's colognes and perfumes, “I probably won't do that this time.”

“Probably? What could possibly happen that makes you leave this time?” Himchan raised his eyebrows, carrying a bag of clothes.

“If I drop these, you'll probably try to kill me.”

“Correct.”

“No violence in my apartment,” Yongguk chided as he came out of the kitchen, having had to acquaint himself with Himchan's coffee maker.

“I'll take them outside first.”

“Only I'm allowed to take my fated out,” Youngjae called from the bathroom, stocking the cupboards with Himchan's products.

“You two are so couple-y it's getting gross,” Jongup complained as he followed Himchan, carrying another bag of clothes.

Junhong smiled shyly, their cheeks a bit pink.

“You're not allowed to outdo Yongguk and I when I'm literally moving in!” Himchan scowled.

“Sure we are. You guys aren't even official!”

“We don't need labels,” Yongguk said gently, “please don't argue so loud.”

“Who needs romance when we can all just be best friends forever?” Daehyun complained, barely managing to carry a box of shoes.

“I'm glad you're embracing your identity,” Yongguk said with a smile.

Daehyun beamed at the oldest.

“Everyone's changed a lot since we all first met, it's nice,” Junhong said, handing the box to an expecting Youngjae.

“But who's changed the most?” Their fated responded, taking the box and setting it on a nearby table to decide on it's home later.

“I worked out my sexuality and came out,” Daehyun cut in quickly.

“Yeah but I worked out my gender,” the youngest countered.

“I moved and got a prestigious job doing my hobby,” Youngjae offered.

“I think everyone has changed a lot, in equal amounts,” the oldest said, attempting to pacify everyone.

“That's very nice, Yongguk, but Jonguppie did have two surgeries.”

“Yeah, I literally had two major procedures done and my body reshaped.”

Yongguk huffed a bit. “Okay. Fine.”

“But otherwise we have all come a long way. Everyone should be proud of themselves. I don't think I really expected those meetings I set up to actually do anything other than function as a free therapy session.”

“As someone who frequently sees a therapist, this did more for me than my actual therapy.”

“Aww. Yonggukkie, you're too sweet.”

Everyone else pretended to gag a little while the oldest's face went slowly red.

“Hang on.” Junhong stared at Jongup and blinked. “I have that sweater, I modelled that sweater.”

“Oh. Yeah. I thought it was really nice, so...”

“That brand is expensive, how did you afford it?” Himchan narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“With all the vouchers I gave him in the care package! He looks really good, right?” Daehyun grinned.

“Handsome boy!” Youngjae called.

“We can match,” Junhong said quietly with a small grin.

“Actually, please don't match with me. I don't want to look strange.”

The youngest frowned.

“Less bickering, more unpacking!” Himchan reminded.

“We don't owe you a thing,” Youngjae huffed.

Eyebrows raised.

“Okay, we owe you a few things.”

“You four owe me your meeting, without me none of you would be fated this fast!”

“What about you two?” Youngjae countered,”how come your line hasn't healed?”

Himchan opened his mouth, but was speechless.

“Let's go get the last few things,” Junhong said quietly, and too Youngjae's arm. They gave a quick apologetic look before guiding their fated out.

“He didn't mean that,” Jongup said quickly.

“But he did, didn't he.”

“Hey, like I said, we don't do labels so we don't need convention,” Yongguk said gently, squeezing Himchan's hand.

“Yeah. I guess.”

Jongup and Daehyun glanced at each other.

“Hey, I'm not feeling so great, do you mind if I head home and lie down?” Jongup asked.

“Yeah. Sure. Daehyun, you take him home. We'll handle the rest. Tell the other two they can go home too.”

He smiled and nodded then set the bag down, Daehyun setting the box beside it, and they left.

“You okay?” Yongguk asked gently.

“Yeah. Fine. I think I could just do with a bit of peace and quiet.”

“Now you're speaking my language.”

He gave him a weary smile.

“I was thinking. We never did do that second date.”

Himchan blinked. “Oh, yeah. You're right. Too much happened.”

“Well... How about some time next week, after you've settled in?”

“Sure. I'd like that.”

 


	30. Spectrum

Low lights, a gentle hum of people talking, Himchan's soft hair clipped back and sheer top hanging off his shoulders, Yongguk's recently trimmed hair and soft cardigan draped around him. Tigger sat beneath the table, neatly positioned between Yongguk's feet. There had been a candle between them, but Yongguk has quietly put it out when it flickered too much – Himchan had been very impressed that he'd used his bare fingers.

“You look nice in purple,” Yongguk observed, “it really suits you.”

“If you keep talking like that, you'll make me blush.” Himchan gave him a cheeky grin. “So keep talking like that.”

Yongguk chuckled. “I also think your hair looks really nice today,” he added.

True to his word, Himchan's cheeks went slightly pink. “Thank you. You also look very cute today, I don't get to see you tidy up much lately.”

He hummed in agreement. “Well, I wouldn't have been able to today if it weren't for you helping me out so much – I'm serious,” he added quickly when Himchan tried to wave off his words, “I owe you a lot.”

“Bbang, I live In your apartment rent-free. You don't owe me anything. Besides, I do it because I like you. I want you to be happy.”

He nodded and watched his drink in his glass for a moment, thinking. “Does it bother you that we're not entirely official?”

Himchan blinked. “Pardon?”

“When you were moving in, you seemed upset.”

Himchan didn't reply immediately, thinking carefully about his response. “I'm not upset. I just don't want to rush anything, or say we're something when most of our dynamic is more of a carer situation. I don't want to get any of those lines confused or inappropriate.”

“But...We still have sex anyway.”

Himchan's face flushed. “Not so loud!”

“It's still true though. We act just like a normal couple, except sometimes I can't even getout of bed and I need your help. I don't think that's unusual, honestly. Even if it was, it's not a bad thing – I hope. I don't see how it's different to couples where one person is in a wheelchair, or one is foreign and needs translations. Some couples just have that dynamic.”

Himchan sipped his drink. “Yeah. I guess that's true. I'd just feel like I was being a bad romantic partner if I was having to force you to eat or wash.”

He shrugged.”My parents argued sometimes. I don't think relationships have to be perfect all the time. Besides, I need you to be firm with me like that. Otherwise I'll just stay there forever.”

“Well... Okay. That's fair enough.”

“Unless, do you not want to be official?” He asked, a little nervous.

Himchan straightened up. “What? No, of course I want to be- I mean, I just want whatever will be comfortable for you. I don't want to stress you out or put pressure on you.”

He felt a warm rush of affection for the other. “Being official would make me happy, as long as you're happy. I really like you, a lot. It would be a lot easier in my head if we had a clear situation between us.”

“Being official would definitely make me happy, Yongguk,” Himchan said with a smile.

“Then it's agreed, we're officially, uh,” He paused, glass have raised in toast, “are we boyfriends and sometimes boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Let's just use things like 'other half' and 'partner' for now.”

“'Partner' makes us sound like cowboys.”

“Hm, well, there's a lot of riding in our relationship.”

It was Yongguk's turn to blush.

 

 

“Careful you don't fall and die,” Youngjae warned as Jongup struggled at the top of the step ladder, trying to screw a lightbulb in.

“What if I fall and don't die?”

“Then I don't care, I guess.”

Jongup huffed, and managed to get it in secure. “Okay, test the light.”

Youngjae flicked the switch and Jongup immediately nearly fell off, blinded by the light.

“Hey!”

“I literally warned you.”

The younger huffed and packed the ladder away. “What next?”

“There's still this weeks laundry and tidying up the gaming room.”

“The one that used to be the living room?”

“Yeah that one. I nearly broke my neck on the wires.”

“Shame you didn't. Then I could be left to eating my noodles in the dark at 3am without judgement.”

“Even if the planet dies, God judges you.”

“God gave me noodles to eat whenever I want.”

“Heathen,” Youngjae teased, heading to the newly titled 'gaming room' to clean up while Jongup went to grab the laundry basket.

He was about halfway through the tidy up (kicking wires out of the way, wiping surfaces so dust wouldn't damage the consoles) when he stumbled across something that had got wedged between the cushions on the couch. It was some sort of stuffed fabric tube bent in half, a little bit grubby and lumpy and in need of a wash. He held it between two fingers, turning it over in confusion.

“Oh, there it is!” Jongup called as he walked past with the laundry basket. He marched over and snatched the thing from Youngjae's hand and dropped it into the basket.

“What if even is that?”

“My dick. I thought I'd accidentally lost it when Himchan moved out. Thanks!”

“You just leave your dick lying around? How did Himchan even put up with you all these years.”

“He's just as bad. I found silicone boobs in the bathroom once.”

“...Did you try them on?”  
“...I may have worn them like a hat.”

“Not what I meant.”  
“And yet, it's what I did.”

“Please don't leave your dick around. I don't leave mine in the couch!”

“Okay, fine.”

 

 

“Junhong! Hey! Over here!” Daehyun called as he waved a hand, indicating his location.

The youngest made their way over, one hand gripping the leash of a fluffy brown dog that scampered at their side.

“Hey! I hope you don't mind, I thought since it was a day off that I'd take Mochii out.”

“I have never minded anything less,” he said as he stared at the excited bundle off fluff. “Ganji, look, another puppy!”

His own dog was already on the case, pattering forward to greet the new friend.

“Jongup's going to be so mad when he finds out our dogs met up and he wasn't there,” Junhong said.

“We need to get Yongguk to bring Tigger out, then it's a real dog party!”

“Jongup would kill us if he wasn't there.”

“Maybe we can do it for his birthday.”

They both chuckled and watched the puppies sniff each other. Both of them were wrapped in little doggie sweaters

“We should do dog walks together, though. It would be goo for Ganji to make more friends, and Yongguk could do with being made to go outside and socialise more often.”

Junhong nodded in agreement. “I could do with it too, I spend too much time hanging around the studios on my own.”

“I'll make a group chat!”

“Does Yongguk even read those?”

“I'll add Himchan in as well so he can read them for him.”

“Good idea. But won't that mean Himchan will come along to them all? He doesn't have a dog.”

Daehyun shrugged. “We'll tell him to go away. He can't hog Yongguk all the time. I deserve my platonic friendship time with all of you without your romances getting in my way.”

“We are fated, you know... It's a bit more than just the romance.”

“Jongup and I are fated and we don't put our tongues down each other's throats when we meet up.”

“Neither do-- nevermind. How are you two anyway?”

“Jongup keeps texting me to ask if I'm receiving his telepathic messages, since he has my blood in him.”

“Are you?”

“No, but I don't have his blood in me so maybe it's only one way? I do try to send him reminders to eat properly and go to bed at a decent hour, but I text him those too just to be sure.”

“That's so cute. Why doesn't Youngjae send me those?”

Daehyun tutted and shrugged. “This is the power of platonic fate, it's just better.”

 

 

Yongguk liked his therapist. He liked the way she smiled when he rambled on about his life with Himchan. He liked when she laughed gently every time he said something a bit embarrassing, and encouraged him to keep speaking. He also liked the way she nodded at everything he said, as though approving it.

He liked the way she seemed to be making less notes with more exclamation points and underlines. Also the little smiley faces she occasionally drew. He liked that she nodded eagerly whenever he ate one of the biscuits out of the bowl on the coffee table.

He was also a very big fan of the way she said he was making massive progress, and that if he kept it up they might be able to lower his dosage.

He liked her even when, after the long discussion of how Himchan was helping him learn self-care and self-love, and manage his life in small chunks that didn't overwhelm him, she gave him a knowing look and said, 'that's the beauty of love'. He should have known she'd latch onto his new relationship and decide that had been his miracle cure.

He didn't mind too much. She'd done a lot for him. He wouldn't have met Himchan without her, let alone been well enough to even go outside.

He liked his therapist, and couldn't help the slight feeling of disappointment when she halved the number of meetings they'd be having in future.

 

 

Jongup hated the doctors. He didn't say it, but he'd spent too much of his young adult life in an out of doctors offices and hospitals being prodded and poked and stitched up and stripped down for his comfort. He just wanted to live a normal life.

He took his shirt off and waited, bare chested and somewhat uncomfortable, as the nurse had him move his arms and take deep breaths and several other things to show how he was getting on. He couldn't help feeling that he was sweating under the stern gaze. It was hard to know if he was doing well or not.

At least the stitches were out. Everything was clean and healing up and no sign of infection anywhere. Everything left was scar tissue, bruising and waiting for the muscle tissue to regain any kind of feeling - most of it was numb anyway from the accident. But the scar tissue was less horrible.

He was rehabilitating well, as it turned out. He was moving fine and though it was possible he may be numb in some areas forever, otherwise he was going to make a full recovery – as much as he could with the damage he'd taken. Good news all around. He'd even been given a sticker by one of the junior doctors, but this was likely because he'd been staring at them during the whole appointment.

Himchan, naturally, was very proud as he drove Jongup home. “Look at this, you managed to heal from an operation without dying on the way!”

“I still have time.”

“I'm trying to keep one guy from killing himself I don't need to worry about you, too.”

“...That was really dark.”  
“Yeah, I know. Don't tell him I said that.”

Jongup sniggered. “Don't worry. Anyway, I'm looking after myself. And Daehyun worries about me just as much as you do. Youngjae's been making sure I do my stretches and don't push myself too hard.”

“Good, you've gained a full team of bodyguards to stop you hurting yourself.”

“I like to think it's mutual body guarding. But like. Emotional guarding.”

“Oh, you're an expert on emotional stability now?”

“Don't need to be an expert to lend a shoulder. Don't you know that the best?”

Himchan nodded. “Fair enough. So the padawan has learned from the master.”

“Oh, a nerdy reference, I'm proud.”

“I do it all for you, Jonguppie.”

 

 

“Hey, quick question, why is your dog one of the cutest things I've ever seen?” Youngjae asked as he played with the paws of said dog.

“He takes after his dad,” Daehyun replied with a grin.

“I haven't met your dad. He's got to look better than you, though.”

Daehyun huffed. “Can't we hang out once without you making fun of me?”

“No.” Youngjae grinned and released the dogs paw momentarily to drink his bubble tea. The shop had allowed Ganji in the sitting area only if he stayed on someone's lap. “That's how I show affection.”

“I feel bad for Junhong, then.”

“They can handle it.”

He laughed. “How are you two anyway? Still being gross?”

“We're fated so we're not gross. Our dates are legendarily adorable.”

“Yeah, okay, you're kinda a cute couple.” Daehyun rolled his eyes. “But you're still just dating?”

“Yeah, we're not like... Boyfriend and Enbyfriend yet because they're still doing the occasional interview about gender and representation. We don't want to go too fast before we can be sure what our lives will be like alongside our jobs.”

Daehyun nodded. “That's fair. I guess going slow is better for you anyway, right?”

Youngjae snorted. “As opposed to sudden irrational life-changing decisions? Yeah, just a bit.”

“Unlike Yongguk and Himchan. They look like they're on the verge of getting married at this point.”

“Dont' say that to either of them, they'll freak out.”

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, probably. They're not good at conventional.”

“Are any of us?”

“Given the way we all met, I don't think we can be.”

Youngjae hummed and nodded. “I don't mind. I think it's a good learning process. Besides, I'm way happier now that I'm living with Jongup and I have Junhong and all you guys than I was before.”

Daehyun grinned despite himself. “Yeah. My friends and family have been saying I've been happier too. Even though not a lot has actually changed for me.”

“I guess your parents are still good?”

“Still old and needing me to stop them from setting the house on fire? Yes.”

Youngjae let out a loud laugh.

 

 

The interview space was a little scary, even if it did resemble the sets they'd normally be modelling on. Junhong made their way through the hallways and long rooms with rows of lights and cameras, eventually guided onto a plush couch with a glass of fizzy water and a small tower of fancy chocolates. A few stylists rushed over to touch up the hair and outfit.

The interview was less nerve racking as it went on. They settled comfortably into the rhythm of answering questions and carefully thinking of responses. It felt like an incredible weight to handle the voices and experiences of people they hadn't even met, let alone verbalise their own experiences in the limited time they'd even been aware of it.

But that was the beauty of the interview. It was a chance to help others work themselves out, or feel like they had a place in the world.

Junhong gracefully finished off the interview and took a few business cards, then moved onto the photoshoot. It wouldn't be a long one and after it all, they could go and meet Youngjae for a dinner date.

Things were getting much easier.

 

 

Days were long and filled with hard work, complications and negotiations. But it was worth it. It was worth curling up in bed together, faces close and breathing synchronising. It was worth the sleepy murmured conversation and gentle kisses. It was worth feeling safe together.

Yongguk laced their fingers together, thumb brushing circles over Himchan's knuckle. He liked to look at the differences in their hands – Himchan's firm and sturdy fingers against his own slender delicate ones. He liked to kiss Himchan's finger tips, so he wouldn't always feel so jealous.

“So gentle,” Himchan breathed, eyes half-lidded as he watched Yongguk's lips travel across his fingers. “I won't break.”

“I know.” More gentle kisses. “But I like doing it this way.”

“Hm.” He shifted a bit to nuzzle into the pillows. “You're the only person who's ever kissed my hands like this.”

“Ah, well, you're the only person I've ever wanted to do it to.”

Himchan made a light laughing sound. “You're really cute, Bang Yongguk.”

“Hm.” He gazed at him sleepily. “You changed my life. You changed me. You make life feel like it's worth getting up for.”

“Awh. Babe. You'll make me cry.”

“It's true, though. I don't want you to ever feel like you can't be happy or comfortable around me, because you make me feel happy and comfortable enough to keep going. I'd do anything for you. I really would.”

Himchan shifted closer and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. But I already feel that way.”

Yongguk smiled, gazing at the other with soft eyes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Himchan blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah. I really do love you, Himchan. I love everything about you.”

“Yongguk, I can't believe you chose to tell me this while I'm so tired,” he half-complained, and laughed so Yongguk would know he wasn't mad. “I love you too. So much.”

“I know. You told me before.”

“Yeah but I didn't mean to.”

He only shrugged and continued kissing gently. As he pulled his lips back, he became aware of an unusual glowing beneath the sheets. It began as a warm feeling that grew out as a long, winding line that travelled from both of their chests and twisted up their arms until it met their tangled fingers, binding them together. They both stared in awe.

“It's back,” Himchan said, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, a little dumbstruck by how beautiful it was in the dim room.

“Yongguk?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished!   
> If you've enjoyed this please let me know!!  
> Also if you can spare a few coins to support me next month as I take some time off fic writing to work on my actual novel that'd be great! You can support me in these ways:  
> https://ko-fi.com/W7W0BBKK  
> https://www.patreon.com/oskawrites


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